Click
by believeinthegods
Summary: Annabeth Chase was sure she was in a serious relationship. As it turns out, she's not. Because she hasn't had the Click. Percabeth.
1. Chapter 1: A Relationshipy Kind Of Girl

_**C l i c k**_

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**_Seven months after a war to end or save modern civilisation, Annabeth Chase was labouring under the impression that she was in a serious relationship. As it turns out, she's not. Not even close. Why? Because she hasn't had the Click._**

**_She doesn't know what it is. To be honest, she's never even heard of it. All she knows is that she wants it, she's got two weeks to get it - and she's going to get it, whatever the cost._**

~ _moderate language ~ minor sexual references ~ TLO spoilers ~_

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**_Song choice - 'Wild Young Hearts' by The Noisettes_**

_Dedicated to Sam, in the hope that her life-long dreams of being in possession of all the worldly gadgets and of being a member of good will come true - and__, of course, that she gets the Click._

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_**C h a p t e r O n e ~ A R e l a t i o n s h i p - y K i n d o f P e r s o n**_

"'Scuse me! Sorry!" She winced as she squeezed between the pedestrians crowding the sidewalk, ignoring the grunts and shouts of indignation as she pushed through the rabble of people spilling out from the subway entrance. The lights from an overhead sky-scraper caused her to squint as she ploughed on, tripping over a crack in the pavement. "Sorry, I really am in a hurry – sorry, sorry,_ sorry_ –"

Thalia was going to _kill _her.

The biting cold of the January evening pressed like daggers to her cheeks. Annabeth tugged at her school scarf, bringing it higher up her face as the chill set in. She cursed as the bag in her hand toppled to the ground, snatching it up hastily and running on, darting between the people without glancing back. She was only – what? Ten, fifteen minutes late? Surely Thalia would forgive her that – she'd tried so hard to leave early, but things had just over-run...

She spied the restaurant from a few hundred yards away, breaking into a sprint until she reached the doors. She gave herself a quick look-over in the window of a passing car – _gods, when did I get so vain? _– before pushing open the door and making her way inside.

The warmth of the restaurant seemed to engulf her upon entry. She stood for a moment, panting, clutching the stitch in her side. The two suited businessmen by the window glared at her disapprovingly as she wrestled with her scarf – she spared them a withered glance – as she hung it on the rack by the door.

Tall pillars stretched to the dizzy heights of the rooms' ceiling, swathed in blue gossamer tied at the base. Huge canvases adorned the walls; pictures of heroes and gods, monsters and myths; tables of twos, threes and fours littered across the spacious room. The diners were all immersed in their own conversations as elegantly dressed waiters slid between tables and chairs, their hands held high, clutching rich platters of food and wine. Some rather questionable warbling music echoed from the overhead speakers, broken only by the dull hum of conversation and the scraping of cutlery on plates.

"Look what the cat dragged in."

She rolled her eyes, waving at Thalia from across the room. Thalia raised her eyebrows, folding her arms over her chest as Annabeth approached. She looked the same as ever – tussled, messy dark hair; black t-shirt wishing death to some poor, unassuming soul; silvery ski parka and jeans, with electric blue eyes staring out from beneath the layers of dark eyeliner. Set amongst the other, more smartly-dressed guests she looked somewhat out of place, though Annabeth knew better than to challenge her – defiantly different had always been, and would continue to be, Thalia Grace's trademark.

"I know, I know, I'm late!" Annabeth held up her hands in surrender, dropping the bags at the foot of the chair and collapsing down onto it with as little grace as possible. "I had sports after school, and the stupid coach decided on giving us a rallying pep talk ahead of tomorrow's game, which lasted about as long as the Trojan war." She sighed. "Have you been waiting long?"

Thalia laughed, clear and bright. "Annabeth, I'm _immortal_. I'm fifteen for _eternity_. Waiting twenty minutes isn't exactly going to piss me off that much, seen as I'm going to live _forever_."

"You sound like your singing the words to _Fame_."

Thalia nudged her with her foot under the table. "Quit with the lip. You may have celebrated more birthdays than me, Chase, but I'm still technically older than you. I'm also armed to the teeth."

"And you think the thing up my sleeve is what, a letter opener?" Annabeth grinned. "Trust me, anymore knife talk, and we'll be thrown out of a fancy place like this in no time." She surveyed the room. "Speaking of which, isn't this a bit too trendy and conventional for your tastes?"

Thalia narrowed her eyes a fraction. "Meaning?"

"Well, it's not got skulls and Greenday posters and mutated Barbie heads hanging off the walls for one."

"I tried to get reservations at that place, but they were full up," Thalia quipped, grinning as she took a sip of her coke. "No, I thought this place sounded good – see? 'Atlantis'. Y'know, after the –"

"– mythological city with huge naval prowess featured in Plato's _Timaeus _and _Critias_?" Annabeth glanced once down at the Menu. "Mmm, I know. You know, they're claiming that what now is the modern-day island of Santorini was once the lost island of Atlantis? I read an article about it, because they've found all this evidence from Egyptian philosophers as well as Greek that seem to hint at these ancient latitudes and longitudes."

Thalia wrinkled up her nose. "Whatever, smarty-pants. It sounded Greek, anyway. It was Nico who told me about it."

"Nico?" Annabeth looked up, surprised. "When have _you _been talking to Nico?!"

Thalia waved her hand dismissively. "I was in Vegas chasing a couple of forty-headed monsters," she said, speaking as casually as one would when discussing the weather. "I swear that kid's trying to out-goth me."

"Not an easy feat."

"Oh, ha-ha. Order up, will you? I'm starving, and unluckily for you I've got one nerve left and you just happen to be getting on it."

* * *

"And that's when the freaking thing blew up. It was like some kind of Jello waterfall." Thalia pushed aside her chocolate cake, clutching her stomach. "I think I ate too much. It's been so long since I stopped, I forgot what it was like to sit and stuff your face."

"I've got a baseball game tomorrow," Annabeth groaned, running a hand through her hair and drinking the last of her soda. "How am I supposed to play when I'm the size of the pitch, hmm?"

Thalia smiled. "You'll be fine. Just bounce them out of the way with your stomach."

"So helpful. Thanks." She sat back on her chair. "We should do this more often."

"Do what? Stuff our faces? These ski parkas only go up to a size 14, y'know."

"I mean, we should _catch up_ more often, you air-head."

Thalia shrugged. "Easier said than done, my friend. I'm never in the same place longer than a couple of hours -"

"– and I'm too wrapped up in architecture programs and re-designing Olympus and school and...other stuff." Annabeth sighed. "I know, tell me about it. Go on, you were telling me about recruitment, right?"

"Honestly, I don't blame Artemis for being pissed off about the whole thing," said Thalia, stabbing a cherry from Annabeth's plate and speaking with her mouth full, earning her a disproving glance from the woman next to her. "I mean, recruitment just isn't as easy as it used to be, y'know? I mean, we've not got any unclaimed half-bloods we can pick up anymore, or anything, thanks to a _certain _Seaweed Brain, and up and down the country girls of ten and eleven – _ten _years old, for crying out loud – are getting all hung up on boys and dating and god damn romance and just aren't interested in joining up." She punctured another cherry savagely. "It's unreal. I mean, what's so great about men and relationships, for the gods' sakes?"

"Well, I'm no expert..." Annabeth snatched a cherry before Thalia's fork could select another victim. "And maybe two years ago I'd have had to agree with you, but I have to say that there is something to be said about having that feeling of being in a serious relationship. I mean, not when you're _that_ young, but when you're older –"

Thalia furrowed her eyebrows. "When have you ever been in a serious relationship?"

"Hello, what do you think I've been doing for the last seven months?!"

Thalia frowned.

"What?"

Her companion shrugged, her fork crushing another cherry into the remains of the chocolate sauce in her bowl. "I dunno. I...well, I guess it just never occurred to me that you guys were in a 'serious relationship'."

"Why not?"

"I guess..." Thalia hesitated, wrinkling up her nose. "Look, I know you're going to take this the wrong way, but at least try not to, okay? It's just – don't get me wrong, I'm happy for you guys. Well, as happy as you can be for another couple when you're an anti-male, outspoken feminist who has shunned the very idea of a physical relationship for the rest of eternity. But I guess I was just a little surprised you two got together, just because you're not...y'know, exactly a relationship-y kind of person."

Annabeth gaped at her.

"I _am _a relationship-y kind of person!" she protested, outraged. "Just because I'm not disgustingly gooey and vomit-worthy when it comes to my feelings doesn't make me not cut out to be in a relationship!"

"Alright alright, calm down!" Thalia said hastily, raising her eyebrows.

"I am calm!"

Thalia rolled her eyes. "Go on then," she said looking thoroughly unconvinced. "Prove to me that you're in a serious relationship."

Annabeth looked at her sceptically. "And how am I supposed to do that?"

"Well, are you living together?"

"I'm still at school!"

Thalia sighed. "Just answer the question," she said irritably.

"Well...no, but -"

"Are you in possession of keys to each other's houses/apartments?"

Annabeth rummaged around in her pocket, before proudly producing a set of assorted keys. "See?"

"Yeah, alright, alright." Thalia stopped momentarily to think, her heavily eye-linered eyes narrowing slightly. For a moment, all Annabeth could hear was the sound of a high pitched chirruping noise emanating from the speakers. "Have either of you ever told the other person that you love them?"

"Well...no, but –"

"Have you engaged in _any _aspect of a sexual relationship with one another?"

Annabeth blushed. "Well...no, but –"

"And finally – have you had the click?"

"The _what_?"

Thalia shrugged. "You know," she said casually, devouring two cherries at once. "The click."

"What in the name of Athena is the 'click'?"

"You don't know?" Thalia looked surprised. "I would've thought Silena at least would have told you, you knew her well enough. Anyway, I think these girls in the Aphrodite cabin told me about it when we were at the Plaza – you know, last summer?"

"When we were fighting a war that would end civilisation as we know it, yeah."

"Yeah, I don't fuss over details," Thalia said dismissively, stealing the final cherry and toying with it on her spoon. "Anyway, apparently it's this real profound moment in your relationship when everything clicks into place and it's all lovely and wonderful and sparkly – and, more importantly - where you _know –" _Thalia banged the palm of her hand against the table, "- you're supposed to be with this person for the long run, like the relationship is the Real Deal."

Annabeth stared at her. "How do _you _know this?" she demanded. "You're never even going to be _in _a relationship!"

Thalia shrugged. "I'm just a generally awesome and wondrous being, who happens to see-all, know-all, and generally amaze people with my awesome-ness," she said with a grin. "So. Have _you _had this click thing?"

Annabeth wracked her brains.

"No."

Thalia rolled her eyes. "Thought not. Look –" She dragged a pen from her pocket and scrawled a phone number on Annabeth's arm. "This is my cell phone number."

"You have a _cell phone_?"

"Sure. It's for emergencies and stuff, but I guess this'll be an exception. Don't care about attracting monsters anymore, being immortal kind of takes the pressure off. Anyway. You have one month in which to prove to me that you're in a serious relationship. Actually, scratch that. You've got two weeks."

"How am I supposed to do that in _two weeks!_?"

"You text me. One word. When you've had the moment."

Annabeth frowned. "Which moment? Which word?"

Thalia grinned, the light from the ceiling making her look almost evil in the silvery glow. She reached for her rucksack, slinging it over her shoulder and pressing a few notes down onto the table. She stood, reaching over and hugging Annabeth goodbye, and as she did so she whispered one word in her ear.

"Click."

And with that, she vanished – disappearing into a silvery beam of moonlight before Annabeth's very eyes.


	2. Chapter 2: A Serious Breach of Conduct

**_C l i c k_**

_

* * *

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**Seven months after a war to end or save modern civilisation, Annabeth Chase was labouring under the impression that she was in a serious relationship. As it turns out, she's not. Not even close. Why? Because she hasn't had the Click.**

**She doesn't know what it is. To be honest, she's never even heard of it. All she knows is that she wants it, she's got two weeks to get it - and she's going to get it, whatever the cost.**

~ moderate language ~ mild sexual references ~ TLO spoilers ~

* * *

_**Song Choice - 'Sneaking Out of the Barn' by Aaron Zigman**_

_Dedicated to Mrs Clisham, my Physics teacher I like about as much as Kronos. (And guys, seriously, look up 'the click' in Urban Dictionary...I did my research....)_

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_**C h a p t e r T w o ~ A S e r i o u s B r e a c h O f C o n d u c t  
**_

"Miss Chase. _Miss Chase!_"

Annabeth winced, turning on the spot. _Why hadn't she brought her invisibility cap?_ "Yes, Mrs Clisham?"

The speaker approached, her lips pursed as if she were examining some sort of vulgar species of bacteria. Her greying hair was raised in a triangular shape up around her thin, pale face, with her taut lips and wide, watery eyes narrowing critically as she stared down upon her next victim. She was a tall woman – inelegant and vulture-like, with spindly limbs and maladroit posture. Her paisley blouse and high-waisted skirt gave the distinct impression of a woman too severe to care about the clothes she put on her back – after all, Mrs Clisham was a woman of 'standards, moral discipline and tradition'; all attributes that earned her a harsh reputation from both colleagues and pupils alike (a position she seemed to relish, as if her repute of inhumane cruelty was something to proud of). When she looked now upon Annabeth, her nostrils seemed to flare, like a dragon rearing before devouring its prey.

"Miss Chase."

"Mrs Clisham." Annabeth smiled brightly. Mrs Clisham seemed to recoil.

"When you first began at this school," she said briskly, her wiry eyebrows rising heaven-ward, "you were issued with a copy of the school rules and guidelines, were you not?"

"I was."

"And you were made aware, were you not, of the strict code of conduct we here at St Helen's have come to expect girls we induct to keep to, especially regarding uniform, security and, perhaps most importantly, schedule."

"Yes, I was."

Mrs Clisham's pale eyes flickered boredly from Annabeth's neckline to her shoes, and back up again. "Then would you care to explain to me, Miss Chase, why I find you comitting a serious breach of conduct - wandering the corridors wearing clothes unauthorized to be worn inside school property, running in the corridors in the dark unaccompanied by a member of staff or senior pupil and out of your boarding house a good seventeen minutes past the hour in which you are supposed to have retired to your sleeping quarters?"

Annabeth glanced down at her clothes. "I have a letter from Mrs Brown – I had permission to go out into the city to meet a friend –"

Mrs Clisham's lips seemed to fold into a single line. "Hmm."

"And because there's been a crash near the school, traffic was crawling into this part of town, so even though I set off with plenty of time I couldn't make it to school on time," said Annabeth, looking up into the older woman's piercing gaze. "And I have to protest against your other point, ma'am, seen as I am actually accompanied by a member of staff at this very second and therefore am in no risk of disrupting school security any time soon."

Mrs Clisham's lip curled coldly and her face flushed. Annabeth felt a momentary sense of triumph. "I expect to find you in your boarding house within the next five minutes, Miss Chase, or I do not need to hasten to remind you that the punishment for your tardiness will be most severe," she said frostily, with the air of a woman struggling to keep herself from speaking her mind. "And rid yourself of your non-regulation attire before I have to report you to the headmaster, do you understand?"

"Perfectly, thank you."

Mrs Clisham glowered at her once more, before turning briskly on her heel and stalking away into the darkened corridor. Annabeth watched her go, pulling a face at her behind her back. And then she set off in the opposite direction – not heading for her boarding house, but instead in the direction of the library.

She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw lights on ahead in the English department, and she slipped inside the doors quietly. The place seemed quite deserted.

"Hello?"

There was a pause, before a voice called back. "Who is it?"

Annabeth walked slowly into the main library, approaching the desk warily. "Annabeth – Annabeth Chase. Laura, is that you?"

From beneath the desk, a small figure suddenly appeared. Annabeth's hand darted to her knife, but as the girl stood she relaxed her guard.

"What are you doing?" asked the girl, in a shaky, anxious tone. "It's way past ten, you'll get in trouble for being here!"

"I know, I know," Annabeth said, sliding her schoolbag onto the chair by the door. "I just had to do some last minute research I'd forgotten are you still in here so late?"

The girl sat down at the desk, flicking a light switch. Immediately the room was illuminated, and Annabeth squinted as her eyes re-adjusted to the brighter surroundings.

"I had to do some last minute library duty," said the girl tiredly, guiltily looking at the large pile of books to her left. She had thick, curly brown hair that fell heavily around her pale face. "Mrs Edge wanted all the books re-stamped for tomorrow, and Tamsin didn't turn up to do her share, so I got put on extra library duty to get it all finished off. Why are you panting?" she added sharply.

"The Clisham caught me in the corridors, I had to run. Look, can I use a computer or something? I've really got to get this research done. It'll be really quick, I promise, I'll only need about five minutes."

Laura looked anxious. "If you get caught –"

"I'll take all the blame, I promise." Annabeth held up her hands in surrender. "Please, Laura, just five minutes..."

The girl seemed to think, seeming troubled, before finally relenting. "Alright. Five minutes. But you mustn't tell anyone I let you do this, you promise?"

Annabeth pressed her finger to her lips. "Not a word."

She logged onto a nearby computer quickly, drumming her fingers as the start page loaded.

"Okay...Google search," she muttered under her breath, her fingers typing nimbly. "The click..."

The results seemed to flood onto the screen. She furrowed her eyebrows, searching the page hurriedly....Graphic design...online news feeds...a hip hop group (not very likely)...skateboarding, snowboarding, TV channels, photography...

She sighed, temporarily stumped. Glancing once over her shoulder to check Laura was thoroughly distracted with book stamping, she dug out her cell from her pocket, texting Thalia a message to the number now scrawled messily across her forearm.

_Can't find it on Google. Where else should I look? _

She waited, praying Thalia at least had the damn thing on – and moments later, her phone buzzed quietly in reply.

_Is there a online dictionary u cud use? One 4 new words and stuff? _

She frowned. She supposed there _would _be some sort of modern, new-fangled dictionary site - though whether it would be much use to her, she wasn't sure. Shrugging to herself, she opened Google once more and typed _modern dictionary. _

Urban Dictionary – did that sound about right? Annabeth glanced once at the clock. Judging by Laura's slightly on-edge mood, she had only a couple of minutes left until she would be forced to return to her boarding house. The darkness outside had gathered quickly – she was not looking forward to groping her way around in the dark to try and make her way to her bed...

Urban Dictionary search – the Click.

And there it was. She caught her breath, clicking quickly on the link and drumming her fingers impatiently on the mouse mat. Thalia _hadn't _just been making it up.... She blinked as the page loaded, leaning in closer and forcing her weary eyes to make out the words:

_The click – the point in a romantic relationship, either heterosexual or otherwise, where the two participating parties experience a momentary feeling that change the way they both feel about their relationship, and where they both feel that the relationship is both permanent, worthwhile and, usually, that the other person is 'the one'. This usually consolidates the relationship's status as a long-lasting or 'serious' relationship. _

Holy –

_Examples:_

"_Have you two had the click yet?"_

"_I'm so excited – me and X had the click last night!"_

"_It was never going to work – we just never had the click."_

Crap. She right-clicked on the screen, sending the website to the printer before quickly logging off. She hurriedly scrabbled for her phone once more, hoping Laura was still pre-occupied with the books.

_U were right. Have found click online. But how am i supposed 2 kno when I've had it??_

No reply.

She cursed under her breath, snatching the paper from the printer and shoving it down her jumper hurriedly. And without waiting to say goodbye to Laura, she grabbed her schoolbag and fled to the boarding house.

* * *


	3. Chapter 3: A Severe Scourge of Smoothie

**_C l i c k_**

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_**Seven months after a war to end or save modern civilisation, Annabeth Chase was labouring under the impression that she was in a serious relationship. As it turns out, she's not. Not even close. Why? Because she hasn't had the Click.**_

__

**She doesn't know what it is. To be honest, she's never even heard of it. All she knows is that she wants it, she's got two weeks to get it - and she's going to get it, whatever the cost.**

~ moderate language ~ mild sexual references ~ TLO spoilers ~

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_**Song Choice -'Serious' by Duffy**_

_Dedicated to my wonderful granny (it's not cupboard love, I promise, just because I've dedicated this to her because she's bought a beautiful coat for me....)_

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_**C h a p t e r T h r e e ~ A S i n c e r e S c o u r g e O f S m o o t h i e **_

She was still re-reading the piece of paper when she stood waiting at the entrance to Percy's apartment building the following afternoon. She pressed the intercom button twice, before leaning back against the wall of the building and pushing the paper moodily into her skirt pocket.

She hated herself. She _hated _the fact that, instead of revising hard for her Physics pop quiz, she'd spent the entire day reading, re-reading and re-re-reading that _stupid, crappy _bit of paper she'd printed the night before. She _hated _that fact that she was even taking this seriously. She was an intelligent, hard-working, dedicated feminist, for crying out loud! Why did she even care about this? She was supposed to worry about drafting paper, and monster-fighting, and whether or not her knife tip was sharp enough to decapitate a Fury! She moodily shoved at the wall with her shoe, before cursing under her breath as her foot began to ache almost instantly.

The intercom made a crackling noise. She hobbled over to it.

"Hello?"

Percy's voice down the intercom made her jump. "Hey, it's – ah! It's me," she said, hopping on one leg as she massaged her throbbing foot. "Can I come up?"

"Hmm....give me a good reason to _let_ you up."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm your amazing and wonderful girlfriend?"

"Nope, not good enough."

"Gee, thanks," she said grumpily, brushing her hair back from her face. "How about..." What would persuade a _boy_? "How about you haven't seen me in nine days and I'm bursting with new and exciting conversation to delight you with in between kisses in a _really _hot make-out session?"

He seemed to think about it. "Nah, I'm still not buying it."

She sighed. "I've got Ben and Jerry's Cookie Dough ice cream?"

It was only a _little_ lie...

"Come on up."

She rolled her eyes, slinging her bag over her shoulder and shoving the paper in her pocket. "Such a Seaweed Brain," she muttered under her breath, climbing the stairs to his building as she glared resentfully in the direction of the broken elevator. "Stupid click....stupid long term relationship crap..."

She reached the Jacksons' apartment within minutes, knocking loudly on the door. There was a pause, before a muffled voice called from inside, "It's open!"

Annabeth pushed open the door, and raised her eyebrows at the scene she was presented with upon arrival.

"Seaweed Brain, what _are _you doing?"

Percy glanced up, grinning at her – or at least, she assumed he was grinning, seen as there was a little too much smoothie covering his face to properly tell. In fact, there was a little too much smoothie just about _everywhere_ – there was smoothie on the worktop, on the fridge, on the sides of the cupboards; there was even smoothie on the ceiling, though Annabeth wasn't quite sure how on earth it had got _there_, of all places. She furrowed her eyebrows at this rather unusual scene, trying to put two and two together.

"Let me guess... you tried to make a smoothie and forgot to put the lid on?"

He held up a small cylindrical object. "I forgot to put _part _of the lid on," he corrected her, looking up at her sheepishly. "And it turns out that...oh, crap, how did it get all the way over there?"

She wiped her finger along the side of a nearby cupboard, sniffing it cautiously. "Mmm." She licked her lips. "Blueberry, right?"

Percy rolled his eyes, sliding down on the seat opposite. He'd grown taller in recent months – after years of waiting, he'd overtaken her; he was nearly the same height as Paul now. His dark hair had gotten thicker, his skin a tone or two darker – only his green eyes seemed to have stayed the same as ever. She watched as he raised his hand, muttering a few words in Greek under his breath. Suddenly, from the sink, erupted a large column of water, twisting and writhing like a serpent in bonds. Annabeth raised her eyebrows, watching as the water darted about the room; splashing over the cupboards, the walls, the ceiling – before crashing back down the plug, taking with it all remains of the smoothie mixture that had coated the room seconds previously.

"You're getting really good at that," said Annabeth, looking impressed. Percy bowed.

"How was school?"

She scowled. "It was okay. I had a run-in with Mrs Clisham last night, so in class today she made loads of snide remarks about tardiness and appropriate uniform and stuff." She sighed, stretching out across the worktop lazily. "Nothing I can't handle, she's just a crabby old woman with bad clothes and an even worse attitude."

"Maybe she's a monster."

"Ha! Tell me something I don't know. Nah, I've already tested that theory, it was a dead end."

"How d'you manage that?!" Percy reached for the towel, wiping his face clean.

Annabeth grinned. "Swiped under the desk at one of her ankles at the beginning of the year. My knife went straight through. No, she's mortal, alright. Seems like she's just evil by nature, not by species."

"I would've thought knifing your teachers would be frowned upon at your school. Most things are."

"You're one to talk, Seaweed Brain," she chided. "You stabbed your seventh grade Maths teacher, remember."

"Different circumstances!"

"Double standards."

"Yeah, whatever," he decided, leaning across the table to kiss her.

There was a coughing noise from somewhere behind her.

"Kids, as supportive as I am of your relationship, could you please not make out in my kitchen?"

Annabeth pulled away, blushing, as Percy's mom winked at her from the entrance to the living room. She was dressed in her work uniform, her brown hair scraped back in a ponytail. Percy merely stuck his tongue out at his mother, who returned the gesture good naturedly from across the room.

"Hi, Ms. Jackson."

"Dear, really, just call me Sally." Ms Jackson's gaze flickered upwards, narrowing her eyes at a spot in the far corner. "Um, Percy?"

"Yup?"

"Would you mind explaining why there's something blue, gloopy and vaguely smoothie-like on the ceiling of the kitchen?"

"Crap," Percy muttered. He stretched out his hand, beginning to mutter the same ancient incantation he had uttered moments before – but instead his mother handed him the mop. "No cheating this time," she said, grinning at Annabeth. "Elbow grease is the best remedy."

Percy grimaced, raising the mop over his head and beginning to scrub as Sally now turned to Annabeth. "I haven't seen you for a few days, dear," she said, opening the fridge and taking out a pot of yoghurt. "I remember your dad was going for the meeting at the hospital, did you find out what that was about?"

"Oh, yeah, just stuff about his cholesterol." She shrugged. "It's no big deal, it's been off the charts for years. My step-mom's just got to try buying low-cholesterol foods for him now – just keep off the saturated fats, which for my dad is easier said than done."

"Well, I'm pleased to hear that. Now, I'm glad you've come around, because – well, has Percy already asked you?"

Somewhat irrationally, Annabeth's mind strayed to a black and white picture of suited Percy on one knee, which she immediately abandoned. "No, I don't think so," she said, glancing once in the direction of Percy's turned back.

"We're having an anniversary party!" Ms Jackson said, beaming at her. "Just a small affair, nothing big...just some of Paul's family, a few of our friends, you know. And we'd love it if you could come – celebrate three years together, you know?" She glanced down at the wedding ring on her finger happily. "It's this Saturday at eight – would you be able to come?"

"I'll warn you, we'll be the only ones under thirty," called Percy, still waving the mop haphazardly over his head. "So there's going to be a lot of talk about the _Bay City Rollers_, leg warmers and _Happy Days_."

His mother whacked him playfully with a tea-towel as Annabeth chuckled. "There will not! And anyway, I never watched _Happy Days_," she added as an afterthought, frowning to herself. "Ah, well. So, can you make it?"

"Sure – I'll look forward to it."

Ms Jackson smiled appreciatively. "Well, I'll get out of your hair for a while, I need to run down to the store – Percy, are you okay for dinner?"

"So long as it's not smoothie, I'll be fine."

His mother grinned, before waving them a goodbye and heading on out of the door.

"She's really excited about it," said Percy, putting down the mop and leaning on the kitchen counter once more. "This party. She won't let on, but this is the first time she's ever thrown a party for more than a couple of people."

"It'll be great."

Percy pulled a face. She rolled her eyes.

"So," she said, stretching out her arms. "Three years, huh?"

"Yeah. It doesn't seem that long."

She frowned. "Really? It seems really long to me."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I mean – pretty serious, right?"

Percy grinned. "They're kind of _married_, you know. I think that's about as serious as it gets, right?"

"Well, yeah." She shrugged. "I mean, I guess. But I suppose...well, you don't have to be married to be serious, right?"

_Where did __**that **__come from?_

He shook his head. "No, I guess not."

The well-oiled miniature cogs in the depths of her mind suddenly whirred into action, an idea springing with ill-deserved glee before her.

"I mean..." She picked at her _cuff_. _Pick, pick, pick_ went her fingers at the loose strands. "You could be serious and...and have only been going out for..." She shrugs. _Pick, pick, pick._ "Oh, I don't know...about...seven months..." - _two weeks, three days - _"or something...couldn't you?"

She silently thanked Athena that Percy was quite so obtuse so as not to detect the minute sense of desperation in her forced, nonchalant manner.

"Yeah, I guess you could..." He frowned. "Yeah, I suppose."

Somewhat cheered by his response, she pressed further. Warning signs seemed to burst into her line of vision, but she ignored them, feeling daring and fearless. "And have you...well, do you ever _think _about...being in a – um, serious relationship?"

"What d'you mean, _think _about it?"

"I realise that thinking is a little out of your grasp, Seaweed Brain –" He pulled a face at her, and she bit back a laugh. "Look, I guess what I'm asking is...well, do you consider _our _relationship to be serious?"

She hated how his eyebrows furrowed, and _seriously _hated the prolonged silence as he considered the question.

"Well...I guess I'd say..."

She leant forwards, just a fraction. "Yeah?"

"Um...no?"

_That bastard._

There was a pause.

She shrugged, (what was she _supposed _to do? Laugh it off? Pull a face? Or better still – _hit _him?!) leaning backwards on her chair. "Okay," she said, keeping her voice carefully level. "Okay. Okay."

_Note to self – stop saying okay. Right. Now. _

"Okay –" _Shit!! _" – then...um, why do you think that?"

Another prolonged silence, filled with incomprehensible eyebrow action and a somewhat awkward atmosphere.

"I dunno," said Percy. He drummed his fingers lightly on the kitchen worktop. "Well, I guess...I mean, we don't live together, or anything. We've never said..._those _words to each other, we –"

"We have each other's keys," she grumbled in an undertone, feeling her face glow red. Percy shot her a quizzical look.

"What's brought this on?"

She shrugged again, albeit a little sheepishly. "Oh, nothing. I was just – curious. It's nothing, really."

He didn't look convinced. She rolled her eyes.

"Seaweed Brain, seriously, it was just something crappy that just occurred to me, it doesn't matter at all. It's not something I'm going to lose sleep over, or anything, it was just a question."

How she hated that she was lying through her teeth.

"You know –" He leant in, his face centimetres from hers. "Just because we're not in a serious relationship doesn't mean –"

"I know." She gave a grudging smile. "I'm sorry. I was just curious, that's all."

She burst out laughing at the anxious look on his face.

"What?!"

"That face is just too puppy-dog to be taken seriously."

"Ouch, you're saying my face looks like a dog!"

"I am not!" She pouted, glaring ruefully at him. "I just thought your face looked a bit puppy-dog like! Hang on, wait, let me just – I want to take a photo of that face, wait a sec –"

He began protesting as she emptied the contents of her skirt pocket onto the kitchen top, before flipping open her cell and snapping a picture of his outraged expression.

"You're evil," he decided. "You know that, right?"

She grinned. "Yeah, yeah, whatever." She glanced down at her watch and sighed. "It's nearly six, I'd better get back up to school – I'll call you, okay?"

"Do you _have _to go?" he asked imploringly, tilting his head to the side in imitation of an expectant child. "You could stay for dinner, y'know..."

"Seaweed Brain, you know I want to, but if I don't get this essay written by tomorrow I'm dead meat, and Mrs Clisham is already out for blood..."

He relented, albeit reluctantly. "Alright then. Go be a smarty-pants."

"Mmm, I'll try." She kissed him, before swinging her bag over her shoulder and making towards the door. "Call me tonight, okay?"

"Of course."

She smiled, giving him a little wave – and within minutes she was out of the door, hopping down the stairs from Percy's apartment two at a time, trying desperately to fight that bitter, throbbing feeling of disappointment that seemed to suddenly engulf her when she stepped out into the wintery night air.

* * *


	4. Chapter 4: A Catastrophic Covenant

_**C l i c k**_

_

* * *

_

___**Seven months after a war to end or save modern civilisation, Annabeth Chase was labouring under the impression that she was in a serious relationship. As it turns out, she's not. Not even close. Why? Because she hasn't had the Click.**_

___**She doesn't know what it is. To be honest, she's never even heard of it. All she knows is that she wants it, she's got two weeks to get it - and she's going to get it, whatever the cost.**_

__

~ moderate language ~ mild sexual references ~ TLO spoilers ~

* * *

_**Song Choice -'Shark In The Water' by V V Brown**_

___Dedicated to the Rockabilly, Spock and Marmaduke, for the jokes about Skittles and big fish, little fish and bigger fish - and to Mr Pim, for the inadvertent inspiration for bits of this chapters. Thanks for the facts. _

___NOTE - THIS IS NOT THE END OF THE STORY!!!!!!!!!_

___

* * *

_

_**C h a p t e r F o u r ~ A C a t a s t r o p h i c C o v e n a n t **_

_10 Reasons Why Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase are DEFINITELY in a Serious Relationship and Therefore Don't Need The Click In Any Way Shape Or Form_

_(by the latter of the above's subject matter)_

_1._

_Seven months together is definitely a serious relationship length, no matter what anybody with a brain full of seaweed says. _

_2. _

_They BOTH have the keys to each other's apartments. Well, he has the key to her boarding house, which is practically the same thing (and completely against school rules, which DEFINITELY adds to the seriousness), and she has the key to his apartment, which she spends most of her time at, when she's not at school/in the library/up on Olympus, designing architectural masterpieces (if she does say so herself)._

_3. _

_She's met his family on many, many occasions – she's been shopping with his mother, for crying out loud, and to the museum with his step-father when they opened that new exhibit on Greek mythology at the Met. She played them all at _Mario Kart_ the other day, too, and kicked their asses. And you only do that if your relationship is truly serious. _

_4. _

_They can talk about absolutely everything and anything. Even embarrassing, totally disgusting and cringe-worthy stuff doesn't even seem so bad when she's with him. _

_5._

_Okay, and maybe they haven't had sex yet, but you know what this demonstrates? RESPECT in a relationship. Yes, healthy respect, which everybody knows ONLY is found in a serious relationship._

_6._

_Hellooo, SEVEN MONTHS._

_7._

_And they were LONG months, too._

_8. _

_She stayed in New York for him. That's got to count for something, right? Living 3000 miles away from her family in a strange city....Well, it feels more like home to her than anywhere else, but whatever. She stayed there for HIM. And architecture and Camp and school and stuff....but yeah. Him, too._

_9._

_He stayed immortal for her. Hello, you don't do that if you're not serious....do you? _

_10._

_Come on, do seven months count for nothing in this world??!!_

She paused, chewing lightly on the end of her pen. And then she snatched the paper up in her fists and tore it in two, throwing the remnants in the direction of the waste paper basket angrily.

What was _wrong _with her?!

She cursed under her breath. The two prefects studying in stony silence opposite her turned to glare disapprovingly at her across the desk. She ignored them, turning to her unfinished homework in front of her (she could almost see Mrs Clisham's piercing stare glaring at her from beyond the page...)

_Renewable energy comes in many different forms – tidal, geothermal, biomass...let's, be, honest, who, even, cares – _

_**Ring ring, ring ring! **_

A metallic, high pitched tingling sound broke the library's deathly silence. Annabeth dived into her schoolbag, searching hurriedly in the depths of her school things for her ringing cell phone. The prefects looked over, disgusted, and she suddenly became very aware of all eyes suddenly turning to stare at her. The librarian, who had been sat, motionless, at her desk, stood with her hands severely poised at her hips, rising from her chair with the air of a woman readying herself for a particularly violent confrontation.

Finally, she seized the phone from under a ring-binder, hastily accepted the call and whispered, somewhat irately, "Hello?!"

"Ah, Annabeth!" Her father's voice sounded deafening in the library's eerie hush. "Hello, dear, how are –"

"Dad, I'm in the library, keep it down!"

"Oh! Sorry, dear." Her father lowered his voice a decibel or two. "Is this any better?"

"I...well, I'm not supposed to have my phone on, you see –"

"Oh, of course, of course..." said Dr Chase, sounding as if he was only half-listening – she wondered which model plane he was currently flying around his study, and she couldn't resist rolling her eyes. "I was just keeping you up to date with the hospital stuff, dear, nothing too important if you're busy –"

Annabeth frowned. "Hospital stuff?" she asked sharply. "I thought you'd sorted that out – y'know, they just said lay off the fatty stuff, go out on your bike a bit more and...y'know, watch what you eat, right?"

"Well, yes..." Her father sounded a little sheepish. "They _did _say that, yes, but I went back in yesterday just for a couple of more tests – you know how it is, all these new-fangled things they wanted to try out –"

"Dad..."

"- and they seem a bit worried about something called athero –"

_**Beep, beep!**_

Annabeth jumped, the noise in her ear catching her off-guard. She glanced once at the screen of her phone:

_1 New Message: Seaweed Brain_

_Any chance of doin something 2nite, or r u busy with skwl? Tb x_

She grinned. The prefects, who were now muttering mutinously amongst one another, seemed less than impressed with the second disruption. She ignored them, letting her father's voice rattle on as she texted a hasty response.

_Nope, I'm free as a bird. What did you have in mind? _

She pressed the phone back to her ear, just in time to hear her father finish his monologue, "- and they're all getting flustered as usual – you know how these hospital people are, always exaggerating."

"Yeah, I do..." She slid her school-work into her open bag, holding the phone to her shoulder with her head. "Dad, can we talk about this some other time? Only I've got to go do something...just eat the food you've been told to eat, get a bit more exercise and stick to the statins, okay? Love you, Dad, I'll talk to you –"

"Oh, not those silly statins." Her father sounded most unimpressed. "Ridiculous super drugs, they don't really work, no matter what they say."

She sighed. Her father's loathing of tablets and drugs was infamous. "Dad," she said irritably, "you have been taking your statins, haven't you?"

"Well, I've taken them a few times... They do cause unpleasant belching sometimes, dear, which especially in polite company isn't really what you'd want."

_**Beep beep!**_

The message tone sounded once more, and pointedly ignoring the renewed tutting and grumbles from the prefects, she read the content:

_It's up 2 u, w/e u want 2 do. At skwl atm, do u want me 2 pick u up? _

Her speedy reply:

_Nah, I'll meet you at your school in about 20 mins, ok? See you then x_

She had been about to slip her cell in her bag and head off, before she remembered that her father was still on the line.

"Dad, I'm going to have to go now -"

"Alright, dear, just one more thing –"

"- talk to you later, okay?" she interrupted, eager to cut short the conversation, "Okay – bye, Dad, say hi to Bobby and Matthew and Sunita for me – take your tablets, eat the right stuff – bye!"

She ended the call, tossing her cell into her school bag and swinging it over her shoulder. She headed for the door, pointedly turning away from the prefects, who now looked ready t o kill. Upon reaching the door, however, she stubbed her foot on the door-weight and bounced back, cursing loudly:

"Freaking-god-damn-Tartarus-worthy-piece-of-crap!"

It was only after she'd sullied her mouth with her choicest curses that she realised that the librarian was stood right beside her. The woman approached, looking livid, clutching a book that looked about as old as Chiron and practically frothing at the mouth.

"Out!"

She didn't need telling twice.

* * *

She sometimes wondered if she knew her way around Percy's school even better than her own.

Whereas St Helen's, for all its league table achievements and fantastic academic success, seemed immersed in a very refined, disciplinary ambience, Goode High School had a knack of welcoming its visitors with a warm – almost familiar – sensation upon the doorstep of its tall, brownstone building. It wasn't difficult to see why Percy tried so damn hard not to get kicked out of the place, she thought; compared to his previous schools (the military academies in particular), Goode really didn't seem so bad at all.

She had made her way through Goode's English department with ease (Paul had waved a cheery hello from his classroom, beneath a mountain of ominous-looking essays) and headed towards the other end of the school. Chances are Percy would be somewhere around his homeroom - such, she thought idly, was the hope, though after five years of knowing him, she'd managed to grasp that finding Percy Jackson was a much more strenuous task than it was given credit for.

"Hey – it's....Annabeth, right?"

A boy stood on a stepladder a little way further down the corridor, stapling multi-coloured scraps of paper to the wall with a kind of maddened ferocity. Upon spying her, however, his face split into a broad grin.

"Oh – hi." She squinted slightly at the boy's face – she was sure she'd seem him once or twice before now, but she couldn't quite place him...

"Looking for Jackson?"

She nodded. The boy stepped down from the ladder, brushing down his hands and pointing down the landing in the direction of the sports hall. "He's been there for about half an hour."

"Thanks!"

He winked, clambering back up the ladder, "Don't mention it."

She quickened her pace, breaking into a jog until she reached the heavy doors of the gymnasium. Seeing it was empty, she frowned.

_If I were a Seaweed Brain, where would I be?_

And then it hit her: the swimming pool.

"Seaweed Brain?"

She'd found the pool easily – the smell, more than anything, had been the biggest clue; the scent of chlorine reaching her and guiding her along the maze of Goode's lengthy corridors. She took a step forward, the heavy door swinging shut behind her as she approached the pool.

The scene was seemingly empty – the bleachers looked incongruously lonely as they stood, unoccupied, surrounding the large pool in the centre of the room. The pool was still towards her end, but breaking its calm surface was a blurred figure. She squinted in its direction as it streaked up the pool at a speed she would not, ordinarily, have deemed possible – it seemed more a blur than a substantial figure to her eyes, cutting across the water with an almost impeccable grace.

"Hey, come on, Seaweed Brain, quit showing off already."

The figure slid to a halt in front of her. His head broke the surface and he looked up at her, his face breaking into a wide smile.

"How many today, then, show-off?"

His smile widened, pulling himself from the pool with ease. "One hundred and thirty-nine."

Annabeth whistled under her breath. "Impressive."

"It'll do." Percy shrugged modestly, running his hand through his hair. "How d'you find me?"

"Hiding, were you?"

"Never!"

She raised her eyebrows. "Yeah, _sure. _As a matter of fact, I _happened _to find this random guy in the corridor who knew where you were. He knew my name, actually...I don't know, I thought it was pretty odd."

"Was he stapling things to the notice board?"

"Yeah...what, you know him?"

The smile that met her words was – and there was no other word for it – truly demonic. "Yes, I do," Percy said, his tone tinged with amusement, "and so do you. He was the guy you met at Christmas – remember, the jerk who kept flirting with you all night? The one with the –"

"- purple bow-tie." She cringed, memories of a bow-tie-wearing freshman cornering her under the mistletoe at the Goode Christmas party Paul had forced them into attending flooding back to her. "Oh, gods, I _do _remember him."

"Did he try to look down your top?"

She spluttered, startled, "What?!"

"It's a trick he keeps trying. It's why he stands on that stupid ladder – he can reach the board perfectly fine without it, he just likes to play these pervy games with every girl in school." Percy's tone was suddenly sharp. "He didn't try it on with you again, did he?"

"Not that I'm aware of."

"Good. Because if he had, I would've made sure him and that freaking stapler he loves so much would become more intimately acquainted than is biologically possible."

She grinned at Percy's somewhat disgusted expression. Whereas she seemed already to have proved herself the more crazy jealous type of person (Rachel Elizabeth Dare, anyone?), Percy had the 'cute jealous' act down to a pat. Subtle, conversely, he was not – she saw his gaze narrow whenever another guy so much as smiled her across the street, however much he tried so fervently to deny it. More endearing than irritating, she'd become used to the quirks of Percy Jackson a long, _long _time ago.

"You couldn't pass me a towel, could you? It's up on the bleachers, and I don't want to drip all over the seats again, else Coach'll kill me."

"I thought you could dry yourself off with the click of your fingers nowadays," she remarked, biting back a smirk. Percy lay back on the side of the pool, his hands falling over his face. "Too tired," he groaned, shifting slightly before relaxing back against the tiles. "I shouldn't have done that last lap, but..."

"You're such a –"

"- Seaweed Brain." He sighed. "I know."

She clambered up the bleachers, heading towards the misshapen pile of Percy's belonging strewn across a seat nearby. She snatched up the towel – and as she did so, she saw something small and white fall from inside the towel to underneath the seat.

Annabeth cursed, kneeling down and scrambling for the object under the seat. "Hey, Seaweed Brain, is this white thing important?"

"What white thing?"

She pulled the object from beneath the seat, grinning triumphantly. "It's like – it's a piece of paper, I don't know what it –"

_Oh my gods._

She felt cold. Her fingers traced the familiar fraying edge of the paper with a ripple of dread undulating over her skin. An uncomfortable knot clenched in her stomach, slowly sinking as her heart seemed suddenly to beat a lot faster –

"Um...Percy?"

"Mmm-uh?"

She cleared her throat. "Where did you – uh, where d'you get this paper?"

She must've left it yesterday, when she'd cleared her pockets – left on the kitchen worktop, where anyone could read it...she could read the words even upside down through the sheet - _t__he click – the point in a romantic relationship, either heterosexual or otherwise__where the two participating parties experience a momentary feeling that changes the way they both feel about their relationship..._

Percy's tone was confused. "Which paper?"

She stepped down, back over the bleachers, feeling the lump in her throat hammering uncomfortably. "This paper."

She held it out for Percy, who sat up, looking weary. He glanced once at the folded sheet, and a flicker of recognition swept across his face. "Oh, yeah, that," he said, and he lay back against the tiles once more. "My mom found it in the kitchen, she thought you must've left it."

Her throat felt dry. "Did you...um, read it?"

"Nope."

_Thank the gods. _"Oh, okay." She sighed, relieved, sitting down on the seat behind and placing the paper fervently beside her, feeling the tight knot in her stomach beginning to unwind.

"You seem pretty happy I didn't."

"Huh?"

Percy yawned. "I said you seem pretty happy I didn't read that paper." A slow grin spread across his face. "What's on it?"

Her face felt hot. "It's...nothing. Girl stuff."

"You can't throw me off with that one again."

"Really, it's nothing, just a bit of school work –"

But it was too late – Percy had reached out, quick as lightning, whipping away the scrap of paper before she had a chance to react, and opening up the sheet for a closer inspection.

"Hey, give it back!" she exclaimed, reaching out for the paper – Percy turned away, his eyes still glued to the sheet as he read its content. She swallowed, her heart hammering away like a drug-addled woodpecker.

There was a pause.

"It's nothing," she said quietly, and her voice sounded hoarse. "Really, this click thing - it's all a load of –"

"Hang on, I'm only on _heterosexual_ – wait a sec..."

Even with the sense of impending doom, the chill biting at her skin and her heart in her mouth, she still managed to roll her eyes.

She waited, watching as Percy's eyebrows knitted together, until finally he lowered the paper slightly and glanced up at her.

"I don't get it."

Annabeth frowned. "What d'you mean, you don't get it?"

It was Percy's turn to frown – he glanced back down at the paper. "I mean, I don't get why – hang on, is this why you were being weird yesterday? Why you kept asking about how _serious _our relationship was, and stuff?"

She blushed, her cheeks catching fire under his questioning gaze. "I – well, yes, in essentials –"

He turned back to the paper.

"Percy, listen, it was just this really stupid thing Thalia mentioned the other night when we were having dinner," she said, imploring, sliding down onto the floor next to him. "She mentioned this Click thing, and I just wanted to know what it was – and that was all, it wasn't like I was thinking about it all the time, or anything –"

"You must have been thinking about it quite a bit. You were asking weird questions about it yesterday."

She could swear the look he gave her was rather critical, even accusatory, and she felt a flush of anger. "Look, I'm sorry that you don't think actually talking about our relationship is important!" she said heatedly, folding her arms over her chest, "And if you're just going to put off talking about our relationship because that's too 'weird' for you –"

"When I have I been putting off talking about our relationship, exactly?!" he protested, looking outraged.

- and if you think that we shouldn't be thinking about stuff like this –"

"Stuff like _this_?" Percy waved the paper in the air, his cheeks tinged with red. "You _want _us to start looking for problems when there aren't any?"

She pouted, before retorting, "Well, maybe there _are _problems, and you're just too obtuse to see them."

Percy gaped at her. "I'm sorry," he said, "but had you even _thought _about these so-called problems and how _terrible _our relationship was before you discovered what this – this _click _thing was?"

That one caught her off-guard.

"Well – no."

There was a silence, and then she sighed.

"I'm sorry." She lowered her voice. "Sorry. I was...It got a bit out of hand, y'know?"

"Uh-huh."

She ran a hand through her hair, feeling the rush of the last few minutes drum painfully down upon her. "You're right. I was just...being stupid. Really stupid."

"Nah, not really stupid." He thought for a moment. "Maybe just a little teeny weeny bit."

She rolled her eyes as Percy smirked. "Yeah, okay."

His green eyes met hers. "I just – I don't want you to be worrying about things that don't need worrying about."

Annabeth smiled. "I know."

"And this click thing –" He looked disdainfully down at the now damp paper, its ink running. "Don't take this wrong way, but it just sounds like a load of crap. It's not something...y'know, something to worry about."

"I know."

He looked at her. "So we're okay?"

"Yeah, Seaweed Brain." She smiled grudgingly. "We're okay."

"No more click stuff?"

She hesitated, if only for the briefest of moments, before conceding: "No more click stuff."

He narrowed his eyes at her, as if searching for hidden sarcasm in her words, before rolling his eyes and pressing his lips against hers.

"Careful, Seaweed Brain, you don't want your teachers to give you more reasons to put you in detention," she said, smirking at his regretful expression. "Or worse, Paul could find you, and then you'd be in trouble at school _and _at home."

"What a lovely thought."

They stood - Annabeth loosening her hair from its tight knot and looking out across the motionlessness of the pool, her mind drifting.

"Hey, did you say Thalia told you about this?"

She looked at him, suspicious. "Yeah – why?"

He shrugged. "No reason."

Annabeth raised her eyebrows.

"And do your brothers still have that really good-working itching powder?"

She bit back a laugh – "Yeah...what for?!"

"Let's just say I may need to use it for a – uh, _special _delivery tomorrow morning."

_Mental note to self_, she thought. _Call Thalia. Inform her of two things. Firstly, that I am DEFINITELY not participating in this STUPID two week 'Click' deadline, whatever she says. _

_And secondly, to watch out for an express delivery of itching powder, hurtling her way._

_

* * *

_


	5. Chapter 5: A Prodigious Party

_**C l i c k**_

* * *

**_Seven months after a war to end or save modern civilisation, Annabeth Chase was labouring under the impression that she was in a serious relationship. As it turns out, she's not. Not even close. Why? Because she hasn't had the Click._**

**_She doesn't know what it is. To be honest, she's never even heard of it. All she knows is that she wants it, she's got two weeks to get it - and she's going to get it, whatever the cost._**

~ _moderate language ~ minor sexual references ~ TLO spoilers ~_

* * *

**_Song choice - 'I Wanna Have Your Babies' by Natasha Bedingfield_**

_Dedicated to Marmaduke, who finally got the courage to ask her out. Congratulations, my friend. And to you guys, who waited a long while for this chapter. It's not the end - believe me, when you read this chapter, you'll be seriously hoping this isn't the end! It's a long one, and it's taken a while. But here it is, anyway! Next chapter will be VERY short, and up fairly soon, because dramatic tension is best in short bursts._

* * *

_**C h a p t e r F i v e ~ A P a r t y o f P r o d i g i o u s P r o p o r t i o n s**_

"Annabeth?"

"Mmmeurghaaergh..."

There was a chuckling sound. "I don't know what language it is you're speaking, but here in America, we speak _English_."

She groaned, consciousness flooding back to her. She felt groggy and limp, and her eyelids seemed heavier than a ten-ton weight. "Um...where...?"

"My apartment."

"Oh..." She curled up into a ball sleepily, feeling the warm comforter wrapped around her fall away from her shoulders. "That's – hang on, what?!"

Her eyelids shot open. The ocean blue of Percy's bedroom walls swam into view, and the cityscape out across Manhattan seemed to unfurl outwards before her as she strained to take it all in. "I..."

She made to sit up, but amongst the tangle of the blankets she struggled to make much headway. "What am I doing in _your _apartment?" she demanded, twisting awkwardly about against the swaddling bedspread. "In _your _bed?"

"You don't remember?"

"Nuh-uh..." She shook her head, sinking back against the covers. "I don't...uh, there was...a swimming pool...and..."

She felt a mild weight shift on the end of the bed. "We came back here, remember? We had pizza...you threw anchovies at me...I kicked your ass on Wii Tennis...and then you kicked _my _ass on Mario Kart. And then somehow we started talking in here after a while and didn't stop talking until about three in the morning."

"And then I fell asleep."

"Yes."

"In your bed."

"Well...yeah."

She winced. "And we didn't...?"

Percy sounded puzzled. "We didn't wha –" The penny dropped, and his voice was a little strained as he added: "Oh. No. We didn't."

_Shame_, thought Annabeth. _Maybe then we'd have had the Cli-_

She stopped herself before she'd even finished. _No. Not anymore. None of that crap anymore. We have a deal._

An awkward silence fell between them, broken only by the sound of the wind whistling through Percy's slightly open window. Percy shifted uncomfortably once more on the end of the bed, drumming his fingers lightly to a rhythm inches from her calf.

She frowned into the pillow as a question suddenly dawned upon her. "So where did you sleep?"

"On the couch, of course."

She couldn't help it. She grinned. "How _chivalrous _of you, Seaweed Brain," she said mischievously, and yelped when she felt him poke her lightly in the stomach.

"Okay," he said teasingly, poking her once, twice, three times. "Next time, you can sleep on the floor, if you like. Or on the balcony, I hear that cold morning breeze at five in the morning is just second to none."

"Shut up, Seaweed Brain," she said drowsily, settling back into the warm depressions of the quilt. She closed her eyes. "What time is it?"

"Hmm, think it's about...nine? Half-nine? Not sure, never did care much for time-keeping," said Percy indifferently. She felt his hand flop lazily down upon her lower thigh, and she was glad that she had her face pressed to the cushions, so he couldn't see her blush. "Time enough to be out of bed, anyway."

"Just...twenty more minutes..."

"Nope. Up and at them, Wise Girl. Anyway, seen as you decided to crash here for the night, you can help set up for the party tonight, if you like." He stood, his hand slipping away from her thigh. She felt a small quiver of regret as he did so, which went unnoticed. "Or do I have to force you out of bed?"

"I'll be there in a minute," she said in a sleepy drawl, covering her head hap-hazardly with her forearm – but moments later, all drowsiness was shaken from her by the splash of icy water across her face from above. She spluttered, jerking upwards to a kneel and covering her head from the chilly blast. "Hey, what was that for?!"

"Your personalized wake-up call." Percy's smile was roguish as he snaked his arms about her waist. She glared at him through soggy strands of her hair, trying to slip free from his strong grasp, somewhat fruitlessly. "So, will you get up now? Or do I have to try again...?"

"No, thanks," she said grumpily, finally relaxing against his steadfast grip and choosing to simply glare at him. Percy raised an eyebrow, amused.

"Come on, Wise Girl. Let's get this party started, shall we?"

* * *

This, Annabeth thought to herself as she pushed the supermarket trolley down another aisle, was a very strange experience.

Shopping, in itself, was a fairly mundane activity, and not one she usually enjoyed – that wasn't the surreal thing about her situation. No, the odd thing dawned upon her as she prised a bag of chips from the shelf. She had never in her life gone shopping with her mother.

Well, that wasn't particularly surprising, seen as her mother was an ancient, omniscient and all powerful super-divine deity and generally had better things to do with her time than spend it trailing around Walmart. She had, on many occasions, gone shopping with her step-mother – but although she had more recently come to _tolerate _Sunita Chase (and her many, many little pet peeves, Annabeth thought wryly), the sensation that was supposed to come from shopping with your mother was never really...there. But now, chatting idly and joking along with _Percy's mother_, a woman having no connection to her real, genetic family members whatsoever, she finally seemed to get what all the fuss was about.

"Annabeth?" Sally poked her head around from the other aisle. "Taramasalata or hummus?"

Unwittingly, memories of a sailboat, siren calls and somewhat surreal conversations about deadly pride flooded back to her, and she fought back a grin when she replied: "Hummus, I think, Ms Jackson."

"Good choice." Sally smiled, putting the tin in the shopping trolley. "If I'm planning on putting labels on this food, I'd rather have something I could spell." She peered into the shopping trolley. "What else do we need to get for this party, then? The stuff for punch I've got, bagels I've got, chips, fries...The meat, however, we still need to get...and some bread...eggs, did we need eggs?"

Annabeth checked the list. "Yeah, we do," she said brightly, "but you're best not getting your eggs until you're on your way out of the supermarket, just because of, y'know, bacterial growth and salmonella and stuff."

Sally looked a little surprised, but Annabeth had to give her credit for covering up her bemusement remarkably well. "Annabeth, I don't know what I'd do without having someone who actually knew what she was doing with all this whole party stuff."

"Well, I don't know what impression I've made on you, Mrs Jackson, but I can assure you I'm no party girl."

"Dear, you really must call me Sally."

"Right you are, Ms Jackson."

Sally chuckled, and they pushed the trolley a little further down the store, heading towards the frozen foods. "You know, Annabeth, this certainly is refreshing?"

"In what way?"

Sally smiled to herself, deliberating between two different packets of chicken legs. "Shopping without men," she said, tucking a strand of loose hair behind her ear. "It's been a long time since I went shopping without Paul or Percy trailing around complaining about it with me. It makes a nice change."

Annabeth, not really knowing what to say, glanced down at her feet and smiled bashfully. Sally seemed to sense her slight discomfort, and coughed. "Dear, would you mind maybe finding me some of the bread rolls? I think I picked up the ones with the weird lumpy nuts in them, and I'm sure my friend Marie is so allergic her head'll swell to twice the size of the apartment if she so much as sniffs one. I'll head on out to the checkout, so if you want to meet me there...?"

"No prob, Ms Jackson."

She turned on her heel, heading towards the back of the store and following her nose, which led her in the direction of the divine scent of freshly baked bread down the other end of the supermarket. Upon her arrival, she was greeted with, seemingly, every type of bread under the sun. Bagels, white, brown, seeded, rolls, rye, sourdough, naan, French sticks, Thalia Grace, crustless –

_Wait one cotton-picking minute._

She blinked. She did a double take. She shook her head. But there was really no denying it. Thalia Grace, Daughter of Zeus, Lieutenant of the Huntresses of Artemis, was stood in a basket of French rolls in the middle of Walmart.

"Hey, Annabeth."

Annabeth gaped.

"Thalia?" she exclaimed, stunned. She got shot a questioning glance from the man beside her, who moved quickly away, and so she bent in lower, looking down into her friend's face.

Thalia's hair was tussled, a smattering of what looked like dying embers clinging to her tousled hair. Her clothes were weathered – literally. Her ski parka looked like something left behind after a tornado had blown in, and amongst in the darkness of the background Annabeth could swear she could see flames and gusting winds flaring about the place.

"Thal, where are you?"

"Middle of a tropical storm, I think. We're camping out here until the Hydra comes back, so I thought might as well come and say hi."

"D'you need help? With the Hydra, I mean?"

The idea almost seemed to amuse Thalia. "Annabeth, don't take this the wrong way, but I think the Huntresses of Artemis can cope with one little Hydra." She stuck out her tongue good naturedly, scuffing her combat boot along the floor.. "Just thought I'd drop in and see how you're doing with your...ah..._challenge_."

"Yeah, about that –"

Thalia's grin was wide, though it faltered slightly, falling into one of confusion and bewilderment. "Where _are _you?"

"Shopping. With Percy's mom."

Thalia raised her eyebrow. "Trying to get in with the future in-laws? I like it. Of course, you're going to have to try a lot harder than that if you want to prove to me you've had the Cli –"

"Ssh!" Annabeth looked quickly over her shoulder. "Look, Thalia, listen. I'm not doing this anymore. I'm not after the click, okay? I quit."

Thalia grinned evilly. "You quit?"

"Yes. I quit."

_How she hated those words!_

"You." Thalia looked most amused as she eased her hands into her dark, torn trouser pockets. "Annabeth Chase. Daughter of Athena. Cabin leader. Hero of Olympus. Quitting and giving up on a challenge."

_Eurgh. _"Yep. That's...that's it." She wished she didn't have the bitter taste of regret on her tongue as she added: "That's what I'm doing."

"Wow. This'd be a first for you, right? Giving up. Throwing in the towel. Chickening out. Failing –"

"Shut up!" Annabeth hissed, leaning in closer to the rolls as Thalia smirked. Her face glowed red, and an involuntary sinking feeling in her stomach seemed to agree with her friend's words, as much she as she tried to suppress it. "Thalia, this isn't about me ducking out –"

"- _chickening _out –"

"- of some stupid challenge!" she finished furiously. "This isn't some dumb test at camp, this is real, and this is something that I really care about!"

"So if you care about it," Thalia said musingly, her eyebrows furrowing, "why aren't you trying harder _with _the challenge?"

"What d'you mean?"

Thalia raised an eyebrow. "This – you and Percy – is something you care about, yeah?"

"Yeah. Of course, yeah."

"So if you care about it so _much_, then isn't it more important that you make sure you both feel this is serious, and that it's going somewhere?" Thalia's blue eyes looked guilelessly down into hers. "Caring this much, as you apparently do...aren't you just building yourself up for a fall if this isn't as serious as you thought it was?"

Annabeth paused.

"So you're saying...get the Click."

"Yes, chicken, I'm saying get the Click!" Thalia rolled her eyes. "Look, you know what happened with...with Luke." Her gaze saddened somewhat. "I don't want to see you hurt again. You've said it yourself. You hate it when people let you down, and you've had to take a lot of shit from people because things are always temporary, never permanent. And as much as I think Percy is, as they say, 'nuttier than squirrel poo', he's obviously important to you, and I'm pretty sure that you're important enough to him for him to want to get the Click thing too."

There was a pause.

"You think so?" A flicker of newly impoverished hope seemed to light in her mind's eye. "You sure?"

"For the gods' sake! Look, you think I'd be stood in a bucket of French rolls spouting stupid relationship crap if I didn't?" Thalia exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air – the image quivered. "Go on, Percy's mom'll be waiting. I'll talk to you later, maybe tonight, okay?"

"No, not tonight." She seemed cheerier all of a sudden, more daring and electric, and she only half-heard herself as she added, "Percy's mom throwing a party."

"Ideal, then." Thalia grinned. "See you around, Chase, alright? Keep out of trouble, if you can. And go out and Click for me, yeah? You've got my number, anyway. I'd best go kick some monster butt."

"About that – are you sure you don't need any help?"

Thalia snorted. "That one still cracks me up," she said, casting Annabeth an innocent grin, before slicing her hand once through the air – she disappeared, and Annabeth was left stood, staring aloof at a selection of varying bread specimens.

Was she right? Thalia was right about most things, which was something Thalia would remind others of constantly if they were ever to cross her – something Percy had done on a regular basis, usually resulting in Annabeth having to separate the two of them and employ some serious diplomacy tactics. But this... Annabeth sighed, making her way back towards the counter.

But what Thalia said made sense, didn't it? It made sense to _her, _anyway – Thalia probably knew her better than anybody save Percy; if she couldn't trust her advice, she couldn't trust anyone's. And she was tired. She was tired of being let down, tired of always having to face the disappointment of short-term, tired of never getting the commitment and the security of something permanent. Wasn't it about time she did something about that, rather than be handed a crap deal on a plate all of the time? And Percy would understand that, right?

And it was on the way to the check-out that Annabeth Chase made up her mind. She _was _going to get this Click. And more importantly, she was going to get the Click soon.

Tonight.

* * *

**_Song choice - 'Two Tribes' by Frankie Goes To Hollywood_**

Annabeth Chase was not a Party Girl by any stretch of the imagination. When the Aphrodite girls at Camp had been getting dolled up in mini-skirts and heels, lip gloss and edible body glitters (even now, she shuddered at the very thought of the idea), she'd been curled up with a hot chocolate, reading _Architecture of Ancient Greece: An Account of Its Historic Development, Being the First Part of the Architecture of Greece and Rome_(the challenge being actually able to read the title in one breath) and not worrying about dancing the night away or cute outfits or party etiquette. At the time, it had seemed like bliss. Now? Now, it sounded like the worst decision she'd ever made.

When she'd opened her wardrobe at school, her heart had sunk. It wasn't that she didn't have clothes. She had jeans, and sweaters, and t-shirts and sweats and sneakers and maybe the odd cardigan or jacket lurking in the back somewhere. But party clothes – skirts, dresses, pretty tops, heels – were noticeably absent from Annabeth Chase's array of clothing. And that posed a problem.

So, in desperation, she had turned to her roommates for help. They had always been polite and nice enough to her before, and she knew from ear wigging on their conversations that they all had extensive knowledge of parties and exactly what went on at them (though she felt she could have been spared the details about hot-tub anecdotes and stomach pumping).

To her delight, the girls had been more than obliging, immediately wrenching their own bursting wardrobes and presenting the contents to her like some kind of amateur fashion show. In no time, they were offering dresses, shoes, accessories, clutch bags, make-up, panty hoses and even suspenders, though from the look of pure horror with which Annabeth had regarded the latter garment had ensured the suspenders were never seen or heard from again.

The blue dress she ended up with was, admittedly, not _that_ bad. The shoes, for heels, really weren't _that _uncomfortable. Even her hair didn't look _too _terrible for once, which was saying something. It was just...well, when she left her boarding house and stood waiting at the front in the cold, she just didn't feel like...her.

She took a cab from her school to the Jackson's apartment. New York's Saturday nights were always something of a fascination – especially for her, the casual observer, who didn't so much participate in the glitzy party atmosphere, but instead watched from a safe distance, somewhat amused by all the festivities. She watched the gatherings of people beginning to congregate on street corners in mini-dresses and killer heels, and shuddered involuntarily. She had thought _her _outfit was alien – but those were truly out of this world.

She thanked the taxi driver as they pulled up outside Percy's building. "Will you need picking up after, miss?" he asked, turning to face her through the plexi-glass – he was a balding man in his late forties with friendly features and a stubbly beard.

"Um – if that's okay." She blushed. "Sorry. I'm not very clued up about party protocol and what you're supposed to...y'know, do."

The driver chuckled. "Not much of a party girl, eh?"

She shook her head sheepishly.

"Tell you what I'll do. I'll head to the bar a couple of blocks away, and then when you need me to pick you up, just give me call, alright? Here's my card."

"Thanks!"

"No prob. It makes a nice change not to have the normal crazy party animals in here on a Saturday night." The driver grinned. "And you don't strike me as the kind of girl who'll be vomiting in my cab at one AM, so I don't mind the favour."

Annabeth thanked the driver once again, who pulled away with a cheery wave as she approached the building's entrance. She buzzed in at the door.

"Hello?" Paul Blofis' voice sounded in her ear against the noise of muffled music.

"Hi, Mr Blofis, it's Annabeth."

"Annabeth!" Paul said cheerily, sounding genuinely pleased to see her. "Here for the party? Come on up, it's just getting going!"

"Thanks," she said, and the main doors opened with a click. She headed up to the twelfth floor at an alarming pace for a girl with about as much experience of walking in heels as Thalia Grace had of pink lip gloss and _America's Next Top Model_. Even before she'd entered the Jackson's apartment, she could hear questionable eighties disco music warbling from inside.

_Well, here goes nothing_, she thought to herself, a due sense of anticipation, anxiety and an overwhelming urge to vomit beginning to build up in the depths of her stomach. _Let's Click._

She knocked once on the door.

"Annabeth!"

She smiled, "Hey, Seaweed Brain."

He looked good. _Really _good. He wore a crisp white shirt and black tie – top button undone and tie somewhat slack knotted, of course, but miracles weren't really expected. His dark hair lay a little neater than usual, and she felt a warm blush upon her cheeks as he smiled a little shyly at her.

"You look –" He stopped, searching for words. "You look really – really-"

She winced, glancing down at her dress. "Really, _really _un-me?"

He frowned. "No, that's not...no, what I was going to say was that you looked really...y'know, really...um..."

She rolled her eyes, reaching over to hug him tightly. "Thanks, Seaweed Brain," she said in his ear, and she gathered they understood each other as he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"Percy, dear, you're leaving Annabeth in the draft from the door!" said a cheery voice, and Sally Jackson appeared, smiling broadly at her. She looked striking in a dress of a floaty lilac material. "Annabeth, dear, thanks for coming – and welcome to the party!"

"Ms Jackson, you look great."

She blushed graciously. "Thank you! And what do you think of my party? Will it do?"

The room was immaculate, and already full of party-goers. Percy had been right – she and Percy were certainly the youngest there. The clutter that usually dominated the Jackson's living room and kitchen had miraculously vanished – instead a huge buffet table laden with food took up one wall, with colourful streamers and fairy lights draped ceremoniously across the shelves and wall hangings. Music sounded from the stereo system in the corner of the room as guests stood talking and laughing together, wine glasses clutched in their hands.

"It looks terrific," Annabeth said approvingly. Percy rolled his eyes at her, closing the door, but she ignored him pointedly. "Is there anything I can do to help you at all?"

Sally surveyed the room. "I think we're good at the moment, dear, but if something comes up, I'll be sure to let you know." She was beckoned over by a friend in the corner, and waved a merry goodbye, leaving her and Percy alone.

"You want some food or something?" Percy offered, leading her through to the kitchen area, where large bowls of everything from nachos to sushi lay waiting for hungry guests. "My mum's made loads, I have a feeling we'll be eating party food for the rest of the month." He looked disparagingly in the direction of a large vat of salsa in a tub on the worktop. "Help yourself to some dip, some Doritos, some...Eurgh, what is _that_?"

They both leant forwards, peering dubiously into the thick, gloopy substance in the jug.

"Y'know, I'm not even going to ask," said Percy, sounding revolted, throwing a table cloth over the jug to save other party-goers from its contents. Annabeth laughed.

The decorations and ornaments pinned to the refrigerator door caught her eye, and she bent lower to take a closer look. There were a few bills and promotional ads; some souvenir magnets from various different landmarks across New York, including the Met and the Empire State; a shopping list; and lastly a postcard, depicting a sunny beach house and a turquoise sea sprawling out across the landscape.

"Hey, nice picture, Seaweed Brain."

Percy peered over. "Yeah, it's from Paul's folks, they've just come back from the Seychelles. They sent us a bunch of vacation snaps with it. Kind of makes you green with jealousy, doesn't it?"

"Sure does."

And just like that, she had an idea.

"Hey, you know what? We should go on a vacation sometime." She glanced up at him, careful to keep her voice even. "It'd be fun."

He looked a little surprised. "Sure. You know, in spring, Paul and me and my mom all go down to Montauk to the cabins –"

"We could go. Y'know, just the two of us."

Percy's eyebrows shot up. "Just...you and me?"

"Yep," she said brightly. Her fingers crossed behind her back. _Hey, if I can dress up a bit different tonight, I can go a bit out of my comfort zone in conversation_. "I think we're at that point in our relationship, don't you?"

_Overkill?_

Percy looked momentarily flummoxed. "I – er –"

"I just think it would do us good, y'know, to get away together for a bit." She was aware she was rambling. She was very aware. She was not aware of how to stop. She grabbed a sausage roll. "I mean, together –"

"Annabeth, would you mind just finding the other bottle of Diet Coke for me, dear?" called Ms Jackson, from the other side of the room. "And Percy, I think another guest's at the door?"

With a fleeting glance at a bemused Percy, Annabeth headed in the direction of the living room.

_Phase one resulted in failure. Now, to Phase two._

_

* * *

_

"Hi, Mr Blofis."

The party was now in full swing. Annabeth had never seen the apartment so full – it was a relatively small space, but at least forty people had now arrived, dressed to the nines, and had found the alcohol (the effects of which were already visible; some seriously dodgy dance moves were being executed over by the window; she'd already had to stop some distant relative of Paul's from starting a large pile-on in the master bedroom; and only moments ago the karaoke machine had been turned on, and loud drunken wailing was emanating from the direction of the TV). When she found Paul, he was stood by the bookcase, as far away from the singing drunk as possible.

"Hello, Annabeth, how're you?" he said amiably, offering her a Cheeto, which she politely refused. "Enjoying the party?"

"Yes, thanks," she said. It was, after all, only a little lie. "There's a lot of people here, are they friends and family of yours?"

"Yes, mostly, there's a fair few of them who've turned up." Paul looked thoughtfully around the room. "I have to say, I'm pleasantly surprised with the turnout – ah, here, this is Billy, his wife Mary and also Howie, they're friends of mine from college."

A couple of around Paul's age and another party-goer approached, smiling widely. The man with his arm around the woman was fair, with weathered, jolly features; the woman had dyed-red hair and was rather scrawny; and the other man had thinning dark hair and heavy eyebrows.

"Quite a party you've thrown here, Paul!" boomed the fair haired man, Billy, in a broad southern drawl. "How've you fit us all in?"

"Careful planning on Sally's part, that's all," said Paul cheerily. "I must say, I'm glad it's worked out, very glad indeed."

"I've been hoping to bump into your step-son, Paul," said Mary, the scrawny woman, ogling around at the other guests as if hoping Percy would jump out from behind one of them. "Is he around?"

"I'm sure he's around somewhere," Paul said, taking a sip from his glass. "I'm afraid he's not a very easy man to pin down." He winked at Annabeth, who suddenly seemed to appreciate the concept of irony. "I should introduce - this is Annabeth, Percy's girlfriend, Mary, and I'll warn you, she could give us old Greek mythology nuts a run for our money. She's a very bright girl."

Annabeth blushed from head to toe as Mary shook her head. "Nice to meet you, sweetheart," she said sweetly. "I do feel sorry for you, shut up in a room of old has-beens like us!"

"Not at all!"

"So – you and Percy – have you been together long?"

"Seven months."

The dark haired man, whom Paul had introduced as Howie, chuckled unceremoniously into his glass. "Practically a lifetime by New York's standards!" he laughed, running a hand through what remained of his hair. "I'm a relationship analyst, you know – took a bit of a detour away from teaching a few years ago – and I've just finished a paper on romantic stereotypes according to geographic distribution, and you know New York is supposed to be _the _city of casual, short-term relationships? Well, if statistics are anything go by, seven months is just about the right time for most New Yorkers to be starting naming the date, buying the Volvos and finding a nice little place in the suburbs to raise the children!"

They all laughed loudly, with Paul raising his eyebrows at Annabeth in mock-surprise.

"Can I interest you in some miniature pizza slices?"

Percy slipped into the huddle beside her, carrying a platter of food. Paul took a slice, before turning to introduce Percy to the group: "Speak of the devil – this is Percy, Mary, the very man we were just discussing!"

"Talking about me?" Percy grinned. "What kind of stuff were you talking about? All bad, I hope."

"And all true," said Annabeth in an undertone, earning her a scowl from Percy and a chuckle from the other guests.

"We were just talking about you and this charming young lady here!" boomed Billy, clapping percy heartily on the shoulder. "Seven months, is it? Marriage, kids and a little place in New Hampshire, if Howie's a source to be trusted!"

They all laughed again. Percy assumed the expression of a person stood in a road looking out into the burgeoning headlights of a monster truck. Annabeth watched him carefully.

"Is it true you can marry at sixteen here in New York?" asked Mary, somewhat tactlessly. "Or fourteen, I can never remember... How about it, Paul? How would you like this young lady as the mother of your grandchildren?"

Percy seemed to suddenly to fall victim to a large coughing fit. Annabeth reddened as Mary guffawed ungainly at her own joke.

"I'm just – going to the bathroom," said Annabeth, quickly hurrying away from the laughing adults. Percy followed, still coughing loudly, making their way through to the other side of the room.

"What – the – _Hades ," _Percy exclaimed, sounding horrified, "- was _that _all about?"

She shrugged, refusing to meet his eye. A strange surge of adrenaline was coursing through her – an odd mixture of embarrassment and shame, anger and frustration, regret and a burning desire to burst into a thousand pieces, unaided by the loud thumping music and the buzz of the partygoers electric temperaments.

"How did they know we'd been together for seven months?" he asked, sitting down next to her on a radiator, and leaning back against the wall. "Did _you _tell them?"

"They kind of...forced it out of me."

Percy glanced over at the group, before laughing a little nervously. "Sorry about them. They're – a bit eccentric. I mean, when I say eccentric, I mean bat-crap crazy –"

She feigned a smile, though inside she was struggling to see what was funny with the situation. "They seemed to think...y'know, seven months was pretty serious. That guy, Howie, he's a relationship analyst, he said –"

"Mmm."

There was a silence. Annabeth swallowed.

"Percy."

His eyes were still on the three stood with Paul. "Yeah?"

"Let's live together."

_What the HELL are you doing? _screamed her sub-conscious.

Percy's eyes shot open. "What did you – what did you just say?"

And her mouth seemed to betray her screeching brain, "There are some cheap enough apartments on eighty-seventh Street that we could get –" _I don't want this, what am I doing? Stop stop stop – _"and we'd be close enough to school –" _stop _– "and Camp, if we needed –"

"Annabeth - ?!"

"- and we'd be able to properly talk about our relationship and – and it'd be official, that we were _serious_, y'know? –" _if this is the Click, this sucks, stop right NOW – _

"Annabeth." Percy's voice sounded dangerously strangled. "You're – this is – you're talking - "

"I love you," she blurted out, and it was wrong, all of it, terrible and wrong and horrible, and she didn't know what she was saying and she wanted to go _home_...

"Annabeth..."

She glanced up at him. "Yeah?"

"You're – you've gone completely – you're on crack, okay? You're talking like a madman!"

"You don't even _care!_" She was on her feet, shouting the words at him before she'd even thought them through, "It doesn't even _matter _to you, all of this! You – you don't get it!"

And with that, she turned on her heel, and ran in the direction of the balcony, tears sparking in her eyes.

* * *

**_Song choice - 'Homeless' by Leona Lewis_**

He found her there within minutes. "Okay, what the hell was that all about?"

The sound of New York's nightlife reached the twelfth floor balcony like an uninvited party guest – the dulcet, distant noise of sirens and far-off laughter, music and the chink of glasses seemed to linger in the air. Darkness settled upon them. It was bitingly cold.

Her back was turned to him.

"Annabeth?"

A silence.

She heard him sigh, scuff his shoe along the ground with a bitter sigh. The sound of a warbling party-goer reached their ears.

"Annabeth." His voice reminded her of a child, approaching with a nervous tone as if seeking redemption. "You – you went nuts back there. You...you kind of flipped, you know that, right?"

She said nothing. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he was right.

"Why did you say I didn't care?" Now came the accusation.

The question hung in the air with ill grace. It was so cold outside.

"If you cared, you'd know why I flipped." Her voice was cracked, wracked with a thousand emotions she couldn't even name – but the words felt like ash in her mouth. "If you knew me at all."

"I do know you."

She ground her thumb along the peeling paint of the railing of the balcony. "Do you? Really?"

When he spoke again, his voice was heavy and pained. "No. You're right. I don't know who that was in there tonight, but it sure as hell wasn't the Annabeth I know. The Annabeth I knew doesn't get hung up over crap about – about serious relationships or – or Clicks –"

He stopped.

The cars below honked and swerved on the damp, floodlit streets of New York.

"Wait. Wait a sec. That – that's what this was all about, wasn't it?" He sounded frustrated; anguished that he hadn't come to this conclusion sooner. "The Click. That's what this was about, tonight."

She could say nothing.

"I thought –" He was searching for sense in it, she could tell – searching for explanations and answers where there were none. "I thought you'd dropped that. I thought you'd dropped it. You said –"

"You should've known I wouldn't just drop it." She felt so hollow, like she was falling from a high down to the lowest of lows. ""You...you should've known."

"So now this is my fault." Percy cursed under his breath. "Why do you care so much about this Click thing, anyway? Why does this Click even matter to you?! You're smart, Annabeth! You're the smartest person I know, and then you have to go and act – and be so–"

"In the command tent at the Empire State. Just after the centaurs arrived." She cut him off, unwilling to hear the words she knew were coming. "I told you something. You remember what it was?"

She expected him to pause, to stumble and struggle to remember, but he spoke as if he had learnt the words by heart. "You said you hate it when things are temporary. When people let you down. And that you – you wanted something permanent. Like you thought you'd had with Thalia and Luke...before that ended, too."

She swallowed, feeling a lump in her throat. "That's why. That's why I care so much about the Click, okay? That's why things like this matter to me. You know me, you should've –"

"Woah. Hold up. I get that you don't want something temporary. I get that big time, but what I don't get is why you have to obsess over this Click, like this has anything to do with you and me –"

"It has _everything _to do with you and me!" she exclaimed angrily, whirling around to face him. "_Everything_! I care so much about the freaking Click because I want things to be permanent, which is down to the fact I've been dealt so much crap that most of my life I don't know if I'm coming or going. But you! You – you and me - was something I thought was the real deal! But now you had to go and mess that up –"

"Me?" Percy exclaimed, his eyebrows furrowing as he took an angry step towards her. "Hey, don't go blaming this on me, I'm not the one wanting to talk about – about serious relationships and God knows whatever else every second of the freaking day –"

"But you don't want to talk about it at _all_!" Annabeth retorted, feeling the cold flush of fury wash over her. "You won't even acknowledge the subject! You don't even care if we're serious or not, this is all just some big joke to you that doesn't really matter, a little anecdote in the wonderful world of Percy Jackson –"

Percy gaped at her. "Of course this matters to me!" he fumed, and he tore off his tie, throwing it down on the chair to his left. "I'm not the one risking something I care about all for the sake for some stupid bet with Thalia, am I? I just don't see the point in worrying about something that not's worth worrying about -"

"_Not worth worrying about_?"

"- that's not what I meant!" he said hastily. "I mean, I'm not going to look for problems where there god damn _aren't _any! Why do you have to care so much where we're going? Why do you have to worry about our relationship and analyze it and plan it all out? This is garbage, all of it, and you were the last person I expected to be so – so darn _stupid _to let something like this –"

His shoulders slumped, defeated, and he glanced down at the floor.

She felt tears spark in her eyes. "And that's where we differ. I need to know that...that we're going somewhere, that we have a future. I don't want to live my life not knowing if you're going to be there when I wake up the next morning. I can't live like that. What we have...That's important to me. That _matters_. And you treating it like some joke that – oh, you know, might last a bit, might not – hurts. Because I thought you were a bigger man than that."

He said nothing, choosing to stare at the floor with a gaze mixed with fury, regret and torment.

"You know what I'm like," she whispered, taking a step towards him. A lone tear trickled down her cheek. "I'm territorial. I'm defensive. I know I am. That's the way I am, and no amount of yelling at me because I obsess over stuff is going to change that. Percy..." She wiped a second, third tear away – but still, he didn't look up. "All my life. Everything. All of it...it always ends right when I didn't expect it. On someone else's terms. And...and I'm _tired_. I'm _tired _of people letting me down right when I needed them most. And that's why I have to know where we're going. That's not about to change."

His eyes bore into the floor. "You and me...it's great because it's so _easy_. It's not complicated, like everything else. It doesn't come with all this extra baggage that weighs it down. At least, it didn't. But now..." He shook his head. "And I can't... I can't live, knowing exactly what's around the corner. That's...that's just not how – how I live life. I can't be like you, I can't plan it all out and I can't think about how serious it is, all the time, and be so serious and severe about it, twenty-four-seven. Don't you..." His gaze flickered upwards briefly. "Don't you ever think you could change?"

She let the next tear fall freely. "Could _you_?"

He looked back down to floor. "No."

She felt so cold. "I can't change either. That's who I am. I...I thought you knew that. And if you don't... Then maybe...maybe we need to..."

There was a silence between them. She didn't know if the party was still going – if the noise was still sounding, or if the people were still smiling and celebrating and partying inside, or if Sally and Paul had noticed that they were gone. She didn't know. All she could remember was she was_ here_, stood on the balcony, hearing things that she simply couldn't bear to listen to anymore.

"So." His voice sounded thick. "So what now?"

And she knew. She hated it; she hated it so much she wanted to scream and cry and throw herself from the god damn balcony; but she knew. She knew what her heart was whispering to her, softly.

"I need..." She swallowed, waiting for the fresh tears to subside. "I need to know you're going to be there, day in, day out for me. I need to know you're serious about this. And I... Percy, I don't think I know that anymore. And I don't think..."

"So what are you saying?"

She closed her eyes. "I need to know where we're going. I need to be...to be in a relationship that has a future. I need that."

Her voice was so quiet, so torn.

"And...and for those reasons, I don't think...I don't think I can do this anymore."

New York sounded so far away. The cold and the heartache seemed like the only things that were real.

Only now did his gaze raise to meet hers. "Annabeth?" he asked, and his gaze was pleading, his eyes wounded and stricken with confusion and grief.

"I'm sorry, Percy," she said, and the tears came thick and fast, her eyes stinging raw.

"Don't do this." His voice was so quiet. Seeing his eyes swim with tears hurt more than her own pain. "Annabeth, don't do this. I don't...I don't want this to end. Please, don't...do this."

"I have to."

"No, you don't."

She closed her eyes. "Yes, I do," she whispered, her voice wavering. "I always said to myself that...that the day I stopped feeling like I knew myself, I had to get out. I had to do something about it. And that's why I need to... To...end this now. Before I get even more hurt."

His eyes stared so guilelessly into hers. "So this is it? This..." He swallowed. "This is where we end?"

She couldn't hear anymore.

"I have to – I have to go –"

Her heartbeats were the only sound ringing in her ears now. She pushed past him, leaving him stood out in the cold. She walked, not hearing the sounds of the party, or of Sally, asking her what was wrong, not hearing Percy calling her name from the balcony. She walked, on and on, down the stairs from the Jackson's apartment until the freezing air met her tear-stained cheeks once more. She kept walking until she stood at the kerb, looking out to the empty street with a closed mind that saw nothing.

Her fingers were numb as she keyed in the number for the taxi.

"Hello?"

Her voice was thick with tears. "It's Annabeth. T-The girl from the cab, from – from before."

"Oh, hi! You need anything?"

"Yes," she whispered. She knew he was still stood on the balcony over head, and her heart seemed to swell with the pain of it all once more. "Yes. Please...please, just take me home."


	6. Chapter 6: A Turn of Tragedy

_**C l i c k**_

* * *

**_Seven months after a war to end or save modern civilisation, Annabeth Chase was labouring under the impression that she was in a serious relationship. As it turns out, she's not. Not even close. Why? Because she hasn't had the Click._**

**_She doesn't know what it is. To be honest, she's never even heard of it. All she knows is that she wants it, she's got two weeks to get it - and she's going to get it, whatever the cost._**

~ _moderate language ~ minor sexual references ~ TLO spoilers ~_

* * *

**_Song choice - 'Primavera' by Ludovico Einaudi_**

_Dedicated to all those who know what it feels life when everything in your life seems to crumble in on itself in a moment you really want to forget, but know that you won't be able to, as long as you live._

_

* * *

_

_**  
C h a p t e r S i x ~ A T u r n O f T r a g e d y **_

_**[Percy** anger shouting tears siren cold yelling **Percy** pain hurt aching** Percy]**_

Her cell began to ring.

**[**_Click whisper throbbing crying **Percy** fear **Percy** confusion **Percy]**_

On and on it sounded, incessant and shrill.

_**[**Click mistake **Percy]**_

It seemed like it would never stop.

_**[Percy ****Percy ****Percy]**_

She finally picked up. Her step-mother.

**"Annabeth. Annabeth, it's Sunita."**

**"Uh...look, this - t-this isn't really a good time."**

**"Annabeth, something's happened –"**

**"Can I – can I call you back? I'll call you b-back tomorrow, okay? Tomorrow, I'll call you –"**

**"Annabeth. Listen to me. It's your dad."**

Not now.

**"It's his – his heart; Annabeth, he's had a heart attack, he's been rushed to hospital –"**

This wasn't happening.

**"- we don't – we don't know if he's – if he's going to be –"**

Why? Why now?

**"- I just need you to get to San Francisco. Can you do that? You need to take a plane, you need to – somehow get here – you need to be -"**

She was half-hearing what was being said.

**"- we don't know – not much time – panicking – doctors are trying, but they can't –"**

No.

**"Just get to an airport. I'll call you soon when we know – oh **_**god**_** – Annabeth try not to worry, just get yourself here – soon as possible –"**

The line went dead.


	7. Chapter 7: An Accident and An Emergency

_**C l i c k**_

* * *

**_Seven months after a war to end or save modern civilisation, Annabeth Chase was labouring under the impression that she was in a serious relationship. As it turns out, she's not. Not even close. Why? Because she hasn't had the Click._**

**_She doesn't know what it is. To be honest, she's never even heard of it. All she knows is that she wants it, she's got two weeks to get it - and she's going to get it, whatever the cost._**

~ _moderate language ~ minor sexual references ~ TLO spoilers ~_

* * *

**_Song choice - 'Here With Me' by Dido_**

_Dedicated to all those who've messed it up. That's me included. I'm sorry this took so long._

_~*NOTE - Look out for a line from the PJO film hidden in here. First person to spot it gets virtual blue cupcakes.*~_

_**C h a p t e r S e v e n ~ A n A c c i d e nt A n d A n E m e r g e n c y **_

**_

* * *

_**

"Scuse me! Sorry!" She winced as she squeezed between the people crowding the check-in desk, ignoring the grunts and shouts of indignation as she pushed through the rabble of people spilling out into the airport's entrance. The lights from an overhead flight notification board caused her to squint as she ploughed on, tripping over a bag at the feet of a young holiday-maker. "Sorry, I really am in a hurry – sorry, sorry, _sorry_ –"

JFK was heaving. Rain pounded the windows, glass rattled by thunder, as reams upon reams of winter-sun seekers milled around in the main entrance; suited businessmen clutching formidable-looking briefcases, and excitable day-trippers crowding around the information bureau, clumped in busy little groups and chattering loudly amongst themselves. Overhead, a tinny woman's voice echoed from the speaker system. The airport staff were working frantically behind the counter on which Annabeth leant, panting. There were hundreds of them typing hurriedly into their keyboards, barking instructions at each other and dragging weighty baggage over the desk to the heavily-laden conveyer belts in unison. The scene gave the distinct impression of a setting likely to dissolve into anarchical chaos at any moment, and Annabeth had to raise her voice in order to be heard.

"I need a ticket to San Francisco."

The woman behind the desk raised her head from her computer screen. "Excuse me?"

Annabeth drummed her fingers impatiently on the counter. The woman surveyed her, her nostrils flaring critically. Annabeth thought of the tear tracks on her cheeks, and she made a desperate attempt to wipe them hastily away as she repeated: "I need a ticket to San Francisco. It's urgent."

"Can I get a _please_, young lady?" asked the woman, raising an unamused eyebrow. With her high cheekbones and dark, severe looking hair-cut, she was not the kind of woman who oozed warmth and maternal passivity.

"Look, I don't really have the time – oh, fine, _please_, then," Annabeth said irritably, catching sight of the woman's pouting expression. The woman nodded curtly, turning once again to her computer screen. She typed a few digits.

"I'm sorry, but I'm not sure that we have a flight available for you."

"What do you mean, 'you're not _sure_ you have a flight available' for me?"

"There are no available flights for you we can offer–"

"Yeah, I got that part, thanks," Annabeth said, cold sarcasm dripping from her words. She narrowed her eyes. "Just tell me straight - is there a flight or isn't there?"

"Well, there _is _a flight leaving in about ten minutes," the woman said slowly, scrolling down on the monitor, "but there's some doubt as to whether it will be flying, the weather seems to be getting worse. And also, a ticket on this flight will cost one and a half thousand dollars."

_One and a half thousand dollars._

"Oh, for the gods' sake..."

Annabeth closed her eyes. She turned away from the desk, running a hand through her hair. Of all the days, of all the times she really needed things to run smoothly... _Come on, Annabeth, think!_

"Young lady, is there anything else I can do for you?"

_Athena, help me_, she prayed. She turned back to the woman at the desk. "Look. I don't want to seem like a real pushy bitch here, but are you _sure _there aren't any flights out to Frisco tonight?"

"I can only reiterate, young lady, there are no available flights out of New York tonight."

"And you're one hundred per cent sure?"

"Miss, I _know _there are no flights, I've just checked my computer!"

A deep voice to Annabeth's left said, "Check again."

Annabeth turned, startled at the interruption. Her eyes trailed sky-ward, and the voice found a body.

There was a man stood beside her – a man whom, she was sure, had not been stood there moments earlier. He was tall – very tall - and dressed in a dark crisp suit that looked like it cost more than a (god-damn-fricking-stupid_)_ plane ticket to (god-damn-fricking-really-stupid) San Francisco. He had a neatly-trimmed black beard and clear, unblemished skin that wrinkled slightly at the forehead, as if the man spent most of his time frowning at someone-or-other. He took a stride forward to the counter, placing both hands on the desk carefully. Strong hands.

Annabeth blinked.

The woman looked up at the stranger. Her eyes dimmed somewhat – just for a moment – before she blinked, turning back to her computer and murmuring, "Look, I really don't think there is any chance of getting you to San Francisco tonight, but I can check again if you really –"

The man's fingertips glowed blue. Annabeth froze.

"I..." The woman stopped. Her eyes narrowed slowly, darting from side to side as she read the screen's content. She clicked the mouse a few more times, her mouth slightly ajar.

Her heart was in her mouth. "Is there a flight?"

"Why...yes, I think there _is_..." The woman looked baffled. She glanced over her shoulder and called over to her co-worker: "Jim... Jim, will you come look at this?!"

"Look!" There was an exclamation from a waiting holiday-maker over the other side of the large entrance area. Annabeth span around to see a group of bewildered tourists pointing up at the darkening sky outside, with more and more astonished looking faces joining the gathering throng as they marvelled at the swirling sky through the glass.

"The clouds are vanishing! I mean, actually vanishing, can you see, over there! –"

"- and look, the rain's stopping – honey, you gotta see this, the weather was god-awful a moment ago –"

"- the wind's died down, I swear it, don't tell me I'm talking crap, dear, I can _see _it, in the sky!"

" - oh-my-god, that's like _so _freaky! Like something out of like, _Bruce Almighty _or something! It's _so _cool–"

The woman behind the desk coughed loudly. She was stood, shaking her head bemusedly in the direction of the screen, looking mystified. She paused, regaining her composure, before turning to her customers and saying in a quiet voice, "I can assume, therefore, that you would like a seat on this flight? I think there are a couple of seats left, if you'd like me to –"

"Yes! Yes, that would be _great_ –"

"- then that'll be fifteen-hundred dollars, then, please."

Annabeth's face fell.

_ Shit_.

A telephone a little way down from the desk Annabeth was being served from began to ring. The woman glanced sideways at it, before turning to Annabeth and saying, "Sorry, I just have to get this call – it won't be long, don't worry."

She went off to answer the call.

The man to Annabeth's left shifted slightly. She had momentarily forgotten he was even there. He looked down at her somewhat dubiously, and for the first time, she looked into the eyes of the stranger. They were blue; electric blue; sky blue.

_Thalia_ blue.

He nodded curtly at her, and in a low rumbling voice muttered, somewhat accusingly: "Your mother owes me."

And then he was gone.

Annabeth blinked once more.

The receptionist strode back over to the desk. "So – the seats for the flight, yes?"

"I - " _Get it together. _"Yes, but I don't... I don't really have the –" Annabeth felt slightly disorientated; her eyes were fixed to the spot where the man had vanished from.

She slipped her hand into the pocket of her jacket. She frowned. She withdrew her hand. And then she put it back in the pocket again.

Now, Annabeth Chase wasn't generally used to handling large quantities in cash. But even without looking she was pretty sure she had several curled-up hundred dollar bills tucked neatly in the pocket of her jacket.

"Miss? The money? For the flights?"

"I..." She swallowed. "Yes, I... I think I have it here."

She took out the money and placed it gingerly on the desk. The woman took it, clicking a button on her computer, and counted it out quickly in front of her. She paused.

"There seems to be some mistake."

Annabeth felt cold. _Please, don't catch me out. Because if you ask me to explain, I'm screwed._

"This is enough money for _two _tickets," said the woman, frowning down at the money. "Are you flying with another person, young lady?"

"No, I'm not, it's just me –"

"_Annabeth_!"

She turned. To her great surprise, Sally Jackson, looking windswept and dishevelled, hurtled towards her, a look of obvious relief flooding her features. She looked as if she had dressed in a hurry – her jacket was buttoned up wrong with her sleeves lopsided, her shoes slipping off her heels, the strap of her shirt tumbling away from her neckline. When Sally caught up with her, she gripped tightly at Annabeth's jacket sleeve. She looked exhausted.

"Annabeth, I can't tell you - how glad – found you - getting so worried –"

Sally leant forward on her knees in an attempt to catch her breath. The people in the queue behind regarded her with disdained expressions, but Annabeth ignored them pointedly. Sally was still attempting to speak: "One minute – you were there and the next - you were gone –"

Annabeth felt the hot flush of shame burn on her cheeks.

After all the trouble Sally had gone to, for her to just take off like that... It hadn't even occurred to her what Sally must have thought as she stormed from her party. She hung her head in shame. What had she been thinking, leaving New York without even letting anyone know?!

_No, that's sort of the point, Annabeth_, she thought scathingly to herself._ You _weren't_ thinking._

Sally was now stood, her breath slowly returning to normal pace.

"Ms Jackson, I'm so sorry –"

And then Sally did something that surprised her even more than her arrival. She gave Annabeth a tight hug, before pulling away, surveying her and saying, "Sweetie, what are you apologizing for?"

Annabeth's jaw fell open.

"I – because I didn't let you know!" she exclaimed, startled. "I was stupid! You should – you should be yelling at me, because I shouldn't have just run off like that from your party, and I didn't even say goodbye or thank you for inviting me before I left and then I just vanished and you have every right in the world to go ape at me–"

"Annabeth." Sally smiled, gripping her arm firmly. "_It's okay_. Your step-mom's already called me, she asked to me to make sure you were alright. She's a bit distressed, and she's got herself all worked up about your dad, and now she's worried about you, too. And Percy told me you'd gone in a cab and I took a guess that I might just find you here and hurtled at about ninety-miles-an-hour down the highway – and here you are! I didn't come here to yell at you, sweetie - I came to make sure you were_ safe_. "

Annabeth blinked. "Ms Jackson, I really – I don't know what to say."

"Then don't say anything. Come on, dear, we're getting you a flight."

"You're not going to try and stop me?"

Sally looked bewildered. "Why on earth would I do that?! You need to be with your dad, sweetheart. If it was me, I'd be doing the same thing. But I do have one condition."

"What's that?"

"I'm coming with you. You're not doing this on your own, dear. I'm here to help."

Annabeth wasn't generally one for public displays of affection, but at that precise moment in time she was flooded with an overwhelming desire to envelope Sally Jackson in an enormous hug. Worried about missing the flight, she instead settled for nodding quickly and turning away, concentrating all her efforts on keeping a tight rein on whatever was threatening to burst from her person.

She blamed the emotional upheaval of the evening as the reason her eyes were filled with tears.

The woman behind the desk looked from Annabeth, to Sally, and back again. "So, to clarify," she said, looking slightly drained. "_Two _tickets to San Francisco?"

Annabeth glanced at Sally, who nodded reassuringly. They paid and exchanged passports. The woman peered over the edge of the desk.

"Do you have any baggage?"

For the first time all evening, Annabeth had to smile. "That's a definite yes."

The woman raised an eyebrow, but said nothing as she shuffled around with tickets. "Here are your boarding passes and your passports," she said, handing them across the counter. "Head for security, and then it's Gate 13, okay? Have a safe trip. And –" She hesitated, looking as if she were toying on the edge of a dilemma. "Well, I know it's not really my place, but – but I hope everything goes well with your father."

Annabeth met her eyes. "Me too," she said, and she could taste the lingering sadness of the words on her tongue.

* * *

_Just been told abt ur dad. Call me._

_

* * *

_

She got his message as they were flying over Chicago. She read the text once, re-read, and then turned off her cell.

She didn't need this. Not now. Right at this moment, her dad needed her more.

She ran a hand through her hair. The adrenaline of the airport had worn off, and she was left feeling tired and worn, anxiety clawing painfully at her insides. She sighed.

For the duration of the flight, Sally had been hell-bent on making sure Annabeth was quite alright. Her chaperone had taken to asking her how she was, how she was doing, if needed anything, at fifteen minute intervals. Annabeth refused to resent these interruptions, however much she wanted to; her gratitude to Sally for accompanying her overwhelmed any irritation she could feel towards the woman's kind spirit. When Sally went to the bathroom, however, she allowed herself one sigh of relief and turned her head to the window.

She pressed her forehead against the pane. It was cold - painfully cold - but she disregarded this small insignificance with bitter nonchalance. Then, when no-one was around to see, she closed her eyes and let a single tear trickle down her cheek.

Just the one. It seemed to help, somehow. A small indulgence.

When Sally came back, she wiped it hastily away and answered her questions with a flourish.

_I'm fine. Really. Don't worry about me. I'm doing great. _

The lies felt like stomach ache. But she knew the truth would hurt so much more.

* * *

**_Song choice - 'How To Save A Life' by The Fray_**

The hospital had been lit like a beacon.

"Dad! _Dad!_"

She hurtled down the corridor. The hospital was bustling, and when she burst into the ward she was out of breath, panting as she threw herself from bed to bed, searching frantically.

"Where is he?"

"Out of the way!"

A tall doctor barked out the hasty instruction at her from across the room. He was clutching a hospital trolley, and swivelled it around hastily as his colleagues joined to help. She jumped to the side. The trolley was pushed hurriedly from the window of the ward and towards the open double doors – the doctors were scribbling frantically on pads, murmuring meaningless medical jargon under their breath and urging other visitors out of the way. The rapid beating of hospital equipment sounded all around. Annabeth stretched out, tapping the doctor who had spoken on the shoulder.

"Sir, I'm looking for a Dr Chase, he's supposed to be in this –"

The doctor glanced at her over his shoulder. His face was etched with concern. "This is him," he said shortly, the trolley moving past Annabeth rattled and carried on through the door.

Annabeth's heart lurched. She ran to catch up with the moving party, trying to spy a glance of the patient lying immobile on the gurney. "Please, is he okay?"

"Miss, I need to get this trolley through here as quickly as possible –"

"I'm his daughter!" she said fiercely, speeding up so she was a little ahead of the doctor, "You've got to tell me – where are you taking him?!"

"Surgery," said another doctor. He spoke quietly, but Annabeth clung to his words as if each one were a lifeline, "He needs coronary artery bypass surgery, it's the only way we're going to be able to clear the artery so that the blood can flow back to the heart – the artery's become congested, very congested. Did you say you were his daughter?"

"Yes!"

"Could you answer me a few questions?" The doctor nodded to a colleague, who raised his pen, ready to write as dictated. "Did this man – your dad – have difficulties with high cholesterol?"

"Yes, she said quickly, the other doctor scribbling quickly away, "yes, he'd been having loads of trouble with it, his physician had been telling him to tone down the fatty foods but – but I never thought -"

"And had he been prescribed statins? Taking them regularly, as advised?"

"I –"

And in one spiralling sickening moment, the conversation she'd had with her father, only a day or so earlier, came flooding back to her.

* * *

"_Dad, __can we talk about this some other time? Only I've got to go do something...just eat the food you've been told to eat, get a bit more exercise and stick to the statins, okay? Love you, Dad, I'll talk to you –"_

"_Oh, not those silly statins. Ridiculous super drugs, they don't really work, no matter what they say."_

"_Dad, you have been taking your statins, haven't you?"_

"_Well, I've taken them a few times... They do cause unpleasant belching sometimes, dear, which especially in polite company isn't really what you'd want."_

"_Dad, I'm going to have to go now -"_

"_Alright, dear, just one more thing –"_

"_- talk to you later, okay? Okay – bye, Dad, say hi to Bobby and Matthew and Sunita for me – take your tablets, eat the right stuff – bye!"_

_

* * *

_

She felt sick.

_Why didn't I do something?_

"No." Her voice was little more than a whisper, hoarse with the sudden realization of her fatal mistake. "No, he hadn't been taking them, he said – he said he didn't like them... Oh my god, this is all – this is all my fault, if I'd have _listened _-"

"It's not uncommon for sufferers of high cholesterol to stop taking their statins, especially with some having unpleasant side-effects," the doctor said benevolently, but his face looked anxious, "but I'm afraid now the only option is going to be high-risk surgery, there's no other choice."

"And will he –" She swallowed back the uncomfortable lump in her throat. "Will he make it?"

The doctor looked down at her, and his gaze softened. "It's too early to jump to any conclusions yet," he said, "but don't worry. Your dad's in good hands. We'll keep you updated as soon as we know anything more."

"Thank you," she said earnestly. The trolley sped off, round a corner and out of sight. She stood, staring at the corridor her father had just disappeared down with a vacant, dazed expression.

_If there's a God, I'll wake up any minute now and this will all be a really, really shit dream._

She wandered around the hospital aimlessly. Under the pretence of trying to find the waiting room, she found herself tracing aimless patterns around the different floors; she found her step-mother, her step-brothers and Sally in a nearby waiting room quite by accident, and for a moment wished she could keep moving, left alone to her own thoughts.

"Oh, _Annabeth_."

Her step-mother stepped forward, her arms outstretched. Sunita hugged her tightly. Annabeth tentatively tapped her on the back – moments of affection and intimacy between her and her step-mother were few and far between, and although their relationship was, undoubtedly, much closer than it had been, such situations of warmth were still somewhat of an irregularity. She pulled away, giving a weak smile to Sally, who was stood in the queue to the main desk.

Her step-brothers were curled up on the seats nearby, snoring quietly. Bobby's arm hung listlessly down from the edge of the chair. She went and sat beside them, wishing she, too, could close her eyes and forget the night's events. She glanced at the clock – it was already five-thirty in the morning.

She turned to Sunita. "How are you?"

"Oh... I've been better." Sunita gave a watery sort of chuckle. "It came as a bit of a shock, I was panicking and screaming – I'm sorry I was in such a state when I called you, I was...well, I wasn't quite right."

"How about Bobby and Matt, are they coping okay?"

"Well enough, I think, given the circumstances. They're exhausted," said Sunita sadly, sitting on the other side of the sleeping boys and brushing Matthew's hair motherly from his face. "They've been through a lot tonight, I thought I'd let them sleep."

Annabeth nodded. Sunita studied her carefully. "You look tired," she said, meeting Annabeth's gaze. "You should sleep, too, y'know. He won't be out of surgery for ages yet."

"Wouldn't be able to sleep," she mumbled, glancing down at her shoes. "I want to be awake if anything happens."

A silence fell between the two women. Annabeth watched as Sally spoke with the nurse over at the desk, a cold numbness slowly washing over her. The dull glow of the city lights pressed themselves to the drawn drapes, and Annabeth's heart seemed to ache. New York seemed so far away – so very, very far away.

"I have to say..." Sunita broke the quiet hesitantly, her voice edged with trepidation. "I was a little surprised Percy isn't with you. Is he here, or - ? I haven't seen him in a while, I do hope he's alright -"

_Stop talking. Stop talking now._

"I supposed – well, I assumed –"

Annabeth closed her eyes. Sunita's voice trailed away, an icy pause ensuing.

"Annabeth?"

She drew a deep breath, fighting the welling tears. They stung, raw and obstinate, but she pushed them away. She opened her eyes slowly.

Sunita looked concerned.

"Is he – ?"

"He's..." She swallowed the heavy lump in her throat. _I will not cry over you. _"He's not coming. He's..." She could say no more, choosing instead to look away, her head turned from Sunita's prying eyes. "What else d'you want me to say? We're not – I don't –"

Sunita interrupted: "Annabeth. It's okay." Her voice was soft. "You don't have to explain."

She reached out, across the two boys, and took Annabeth's hand. Annabeth faltered uncertainly, before letting her fingers curl slowly around Sunita's. Sunita gave them a comforting squeeze. The two shared a hesitant smile.

"Annabeth?"

It was Sally. She turned to look at her over her shoulder.

"I've just spoken to the nurse," Sally said, "and she says operations like your dad's can take anything up to five hours, give or take, as long as there are no complications. Are you okay to wait that long?"

Sunita paused. Annabeth could see dark circles hanging under her weary eyes, pockmarked by the tell-tale smudge-marks of yesterday's mascara. "Well, I'd rather stay..." she said, sounding troubled, before regarding the two boys in front of her. "But I suppose I'd better head home so the boys can get some sleep, they can't stay here all night. Annabeth, are you - ?"

"If there's anything I can do to help, Mrs Chase, please, don't hesitate to ask," said Sally obligingly, gesturing to the sleeping Bobby and Matthew. "If you want to stay here, I'd be more than happy to take Bobby and Matthew back to your house, see they're all right, if you want – Annabeth, too, if she wants to go home."

"No." _I left home back in New York_, she thought forlornly. "No, I want to stay here."

"Well, if you're sure... Sally, it's alright, I'll take Bobby and Matt home, I could probably do with getting changed and taking a shower at home." Sunita pursed her lips. "Would you mind staying with Annabeth here at the hospital? I know it's a big ask, but I -"

"No, not at all!"

Sunita smiled sadly at Sally. "Thank you. Thank you, I really do appreciate it – you bringing Annabeth here, you helping us out now; I can't tell you how much –"

"Please, don't worry about it – you just concentrate on making sure your sons are alright," said Sally. Bobby was already starting to stir, his eyelids flickering against Annabeth's elbow. "Annabeth and I will stay here, we'll call you if anything happens, okay?"

"You're a life-saver," said Sunita flatly, shaking Sally's hand as Bobby and Matthew sat up groggily. "Boys, come on, I know you're tired – we're going home, okay? Say goodbye to Annabeth and Ms Jackson, then we'd best be off –"

"Bye Annabeth," said Bobby sleepily, his eyes still half-closed, "Nice to –" He yawned widely, "-see you again..."

"Bye, Ms Jackson!" Matthew said, looking as drained as Annabeth felt. They gave a parting wave and headed for the door – just as they were leaving, Matthew could be heard saying confusedly to his mother, "Who's Ms Jackson?"

Sally smiled, sitting down beside Annabeth. "I just wish," she said, sounding wistful, "that for once, someone would call me Sally."

Annabeth tried to smile, but the ache in her stomach – an odd mix of loneliness and frustration and a thousand other emotions she could probably name if she wasn't so _fricking tired_ – won out against her desire to stay positive.

The waiting room was nearly empty. On the faces of all who remained, there was bereavement and anxiety; some seeking solace in the comfort of others; some sat alone and apart from the murmured conversations and warm embraces of family members; some tearful, others thoughtful. Some were, as Bobby and Matthew had been, curled up in deep slumber, resting on the laps of the willing. Annabeth glanced down, scuffing her shoe slowly along the floor. She felt oddly self-conscious, but a glance down at the dress she was still wearing explained her discomfort. She wondered how she would be able to get her clothes back to her classmates now – or indeed, who would explain to school where she was when she didn't turn up for curfew? She groaned inwardly, leaning forward and pressing her palms to her forehead.

_When did this become my life?_

"It's going to be okay, y'know," Sally said quietly. She nodded into her hands, before dragging them away and clenching them into fists. "All of it. I know... I know it seems like the end of the world right now, but it's going to get better. I promise."

She put her hand on Annabeth's shoulder, and Annabeth nodded_. _"I know."

She was so tired, so strung out emotionally, so empty, she didn't even care about lying to Sally any more.

* * *

_Annabeth, I know u'll have a lot on ur mind with ur dad, but pls call me back. Need 2 know ur ok. Worried abt u. We need 2 talk this out._

_

* * *

_

Paul had a problem.

He'd cleared up most of the remnants of the party – the food scattered about the apartment, the streamers hanging from the wall-drapings, the lop-sided glasses with wine trickling down onto surfaces which were generally best left clean. He'd turned off the stereo and the karaoke machine, and he was just about to go check in any of the other rooms for any irregularities that may or may not have been caused by Mike, the drunken apartment block super.

No, the tidying-up hadn't been much of a problem.

Sally had been gone for hours. It would be futile to deny that Paul had been more than a little concerned when she'd given him a garbled explanation about going to the airport and pressed a hurried kiss to cheek – the weather, after all, had been severe and hardly ideal for flying a few thousand miles across the country - but since the weather had turned, almost miraculously, and Paul's worries had dissolved somewhat. It wasn't like he was incapable of handling a party situation; in his college days, he'd gained plenty of experience (more than he'd care to admit), and as a result wasn't too troubled with the idea of running shop all on his own.

Nope, Sally's absence wasn't the problem either.

The problem was in the kitchen.

He stood, a little awkwardly, in the doorway that separated the kitchen area to the living room, and looked at the problem. He glanced at his watch, pulling a pained expression. It was late – later than he'd thought, anyway.

"Percy."

The problem looked up.

Paul took a hesitant step forward. He frowned, taking a moment to reconsider. And stepped back again.

His relationship with Percy had never really been much of an issue before. He'd never allowed himself to worry about the concern of having a teenage step-son, and somehow (perhaps as a result of this decision, or perhaps not) the issue had never really arisen. This was, he thought idly, something he should really appreciate. He knew plenty of men around his age that fought and clashed constantly with their adolescent step-children - and they didn't even have to cope with the daily struggles of ADHD and dyslexia. But instead, Percy and he enjoyed a relationship of mutual understanding and respect, founded on their shared affection to the other occupant of the Jackson's apartment (and a common interest in basketball, as had later been discovered).

But basketball wasn't going to save him now.

He surveyed Percy carefully. Far be it for him to judge, but the kid had – well, he had looked better. In fact, he wasn't sure he'd ever seen Percy looking worse.

He decided to go for the kill.

"Percy, it's six o'clock in the morning." _That's good, Paul_, he thought to himself. _Giving him a taste of reality. Bringing him back to normality. You're doing well. _"You look like you could do with some sleep."

Diplomatic, but firm. He should get a medal.

"I'm not sleeping until she calls."

_Hmm. Obstacle 1._

Paul thought about it. _No reason why he shouldn't be able to side-step this._ "She's probably at the hospital," he said reasonably, "and she won't be able to call you until she gets somewhere else, if she's busy with her dad. Maybe the hospital doesn't allow cell phones."

Percy didn't seem to have an answer for that one. He hesitated. He was stood at the sink – cold water still running, though the washing up had been left to dry in the rack. Paul watched as his step-son's outstretched hand approached the stream of running water. Carefully, his fingertips traced absent patterns in the flow. The water followed obediently, and Paul couldn't help but gape, fascinated, as miniature figures emerged from the faucet – white foamed horses, sea-shells and ornate flowers, feathers and blinking eyes and faces Paul felt he should recognize, but couldn't quite put a name to.

"Maybe she just hasn't got your messages yet."

"Mmm." Percy's eyes were on the blossoming creatures, his expression unfocused and vague.

"Maybe she just doesn't know what to reply with."

"I guess."

Paul sighed, faced with the difficult choice as to what to say next.

He scratched his head. He was a realist – never one to give false hope where it would do more damage than good (as a teacher, he'd learnt the hard way that being tactful wasn't always going to end happily). And after taking one long look at the teenage boy stood slumped in front of him, Paul was pretty sure his step-son couldn't take much more disappointment

"Percy," he said uneasily, lowering his voice and saying as kindly as he could, though he regretted his words almost instantly: "Percy, have you thought that... well, maybe she just doesn't want to reply."

Percy's hand slipped, and sliced through the head of the foaming sea horse. He stood, perfectly still.

The silence that ensued was agonizing.

And finally Percy turned to him. "Tell me what to do."

Paul looked at him. Percy's expression was hollow – pleading, bitter, regretful. His green eyes were searching. Paul had never known his step-son as a child, but as he looked at the boy in the kitchen with a broken heart he seemed to see a much younger child, somehow; confused and lost, turning to face of the elder for guidance.

Problem was, Paul had no idea what to say. "Percy, I..."

"You've got to know how to help me." Percy's desperate words were like salt to a wound as the boy turned, pacing the kitchen with restless impatience. "Paul, you know I wouldn't ask if I had another option. Please. Help."

"Percy, I.." He was faltering helplessly. _You're asking me for advice about love, kid? You came to the wrong guy. _

"You're years older than me," Percy said fervently. _Thanks for reminding me, sport_, he thought idly. "You've got to have – I don't know, more experience or something. You've _got _to."

He sighed.

"Percy, I don't know what delusion you're under that I know anything about..." He paused, conscious that the wrong word could easily upset in the fragile situation. "Well, about relationships, I suppose. I spent my teenage years cooped up in a library reading the classics. I never had to deal with half the stuff you've been through when I was your age, kiddo."

"But you have _some _experience of...like, dating and stuff?" Percy looked hopeful. "Don't you?"

Percy smiled at him kindly. "You want the truth, Percy?"

He nodded.

"I messed up everything with every woman I've ever been with. Well, save your mom. In my twenties and thirties..." He sighed. "All I did was make mistake after mistake. My first marriage was a disaster."

"You've been married before?"

He nodded briskly. "Yeah. Three years. Three very long, very...shall we say, _awkward _years."

Percy looked confused. "What –" He glanced at the ceiling for a moment. "What, uh, went wrong?"

_Good question_. "I couldn't communicate. She quite openly communicated about everything I was doing wrong." The sigh that followed was sour. "I screwed it up. Big time."

Percy glanced over at him. "What happened? In the end?"

"She left me. In the end." The confession didn't come easily. His feigned nonchalance seemed painfully apparent when he heard the words aloud. "For my best friend, as it turns out. Twice the man I could ever be, who could give her more than I could ever have hoped to offer." He gave a wry, humourless laugh. "It's not like me to harbour judges, but if I saw that guy today..." He scowled. "I'd known him since high school, y'know. And then he stabbed me in the back. Came home from an apostrophes convention and there he was -"

"Sounds like a douche-bag."

"Hmm?"

"Your best friend." Percy's expression was one of disgust. "He sounds like an asshole."

Paul chuckled. "Well, yeah. Not so great a friend after all."

"How old were you when you got married? The first time, I mean."

"Twenty."

Percy's expression was an odd mix of – well, Paul wasn't even sure what was going through the boy's head at that precise moment in time. "You were young, then," he murmured, glancing quickly in Paul's direction for justification.

Paul nodded.

_And quiet. _Paul didn't like silence much – an irregularity in the teaching profession – but this one; well, he wasn't going to be the one to break. _Ah, silence. Probably best defined as awkward. Possible synonyms: gauche, uncomfortable, ill-at-ease. Antonyms: relaxed, comfortable. _

"Paul."

"Mmm?"

"So – do you think..." Percy twisted the dish cloth slowly between his palms. "Do you think it would be crazy to be...I don't know, to even be thinking about being in a serious relationship if you're young?"

"Well..." Paul moved his head in a non-committal jerk. "I suppose it depends."

"On what?"

"On who the people are, I guess," said Paul uneasily. "Why they're both _in _the relationship to start with. Whether they can see the relationship lasting. What they've – what they've been through. Together." He grimaced. He'd docked marks on student's test papers before for using those kind of clichés. _You hypocrite, Paul Blofis. _He pursed his lips. "Percy, I... I don't mean to pry, but I'm going to have to ask – does this have any bearing on what's happened with Annabeth tonight?"

He was surprised to get an answer.

"Honestly? I don't even know." Percy gave a hollow laugh, but the cold annoyance in his demeanour wasn't something Paul found the slightest bit funny. "Gods, this sucks, y'know? Like, twelve hours ago I was on top of the world. And now it's just all so..."

"Complicated?"

"Mmm."

And suddenly, there was a sharp clatter; the sound of Percy slamming shut the cabinet draw with some force, his body tense with frustration.

"For the gods' sakes!" he exclaimed heatedly. Paul watched him closely, surprised by the sudden burst of anger. "This isn't how it's supposed to go, okay? All my life, I've been pissed because I've had to improvise _everything_, because I could never be sure what was coming around the freaking corner – and now, now I have something that I _want _to be there for the rest of my life, and I act like such a nostalgic dick that I can't even have the guts to commit to something that actually matters!" He threw himself down on the kitchen stool in anguish, pulling loose the cufflinks angrily and stuffing them deep in his trouser pockets. He leant forward on his elbows, hands covering his face.

Paul stood, looking on in a slightly stunned stupor.

The apology came quicker than he expected.

"I'm sorry." It was muffled by the hands across his mouth, but the second was much clearer. "Paul, I'm sorry. I need to...to get a grip. I know."

"Percy, it's understandable –"

"That doesn't make it right." His step-son looked so ashamed. "Usually I can control it. Just sometimes – sometimes it's hard. Hard to keep my emotions in check, y'know?

Paul nodded mutely.

Percy moved over to the fridge, taking out a bottle of water and taking a small sip. "Maybe that social worker was right. I _really_ should be on medication." Another wry, humourless laugh.

"You don't need medication just because you care about stuff, Percy." _At last. A useful input. "_I've known a lot of kids like you –"

Percy raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, not _exactly _like you – but kids who've got ADHD. And I've known a ton of kids who can't control their emotions over anything because of it. But you, you're controlled beyond belief. Getting angry, having a slip...that's human. And unfortunately there isn't any medication to help you with that."

His step-son's gaze was lost to the swirl of the dark New York city skyline. "I thought I knew."

"Knew what?" He felt so dense. _You are a member of the teaching profession. And yet your attempts to have a decent conversation with a teenager have failed drastically. Your mom was right, _he thought dully to himself. _Teaching's not for you._

"I thought I knew what I wanted."

"And what _do_ you want?"

His question was met by a silence – and before he knew it Percy was running through to the corridor and snatching a jacket from the coat hooks.

"Okay, you don't have to tell me!" Paul cried. Percy skidded back into the kitchen, heaving on his jacket and shoving items in his pockets – cell, keys, iPod, cash. "You don't have to walk out!"

"No! Paul, I've got it!" Percy sounded elated. "I've got to go!"

"Go where?!"

His face split into a wide grin. "San Francisco!"

Paul gaped.

"What on earth for?"

"To tell her what I want!" He'd never seen the boy look so buoyant. "She's got to listen to me. I've got to tell her, I've got to make her listen –"

"Percy, I don't think –"

"Then do what I do!" His step-son gripped his shoulders. "_Don't _think!"

And suddenly was Percy calling out a hasty goodbye and saying something about a thank you and a Pegasus and something that might have been about Zeus' blasting him out of the sky as the door slammed shut behind him.

Paul Blofis sat. Paul Blofis blinked. And Paul Blofis stood up again.

_ What the hell just happened?_

He didn't understand any of this.

_Screw it. Where's the Scotch?_

* * *

**_Song choice - 'Everything Is Wrong' by Moby_**

"Annabeth!"

She glanced up from her cell, sliding shut the screen hastily and stowing the phone away in her pocket. "Yes?"

"It's your dad, he's out of surgery, he's –"

She was already on her feet, racing past the excitable Sally down the hospital corridor. She wove between gurneys and IV drips as she headed up to the ward.

"Annabeth! Annabeth, please, wait!"

_Oh, gods, please let him be okay, let him be okay, please please please - _

"Dad?"

She skidded into the ward. Breathing heavily, she approached the bed by the furthest window with a sudden wary caution that gripped her like a vice. Here, a man in a surgical gown lay, motionless – she came to rest at his head, the slow footsteps coming to a standstill.

She looked down at her father.

His eyes were closed. Dark circles hung like dusty curtains across his cheekbones – his face was pale and drawn.

For the first time in her life, it dawned on Annabeth just how old her father looked.

"It's...Annabeth, right?"

She jumped at the interruption, her nerves heightening her reactions. To her a reflief, it was a doctor who now approached the bed. She was startled to see how very young he looked - he couldn't have been more than twenty or so, with sandy-ish hair and a light tan, and yet he looked oddly suited to the white lab coat he wore. He looked at her with a small smile, and she almost blushed.

"Yeah, that's me." Her hand traced her father's pallid forehead. "Is he - ?"

"The surgery went well, don't worry," said the doctor, glancing down at her father. He looked almost curious, a little distracted, as he continued: "Everything went to procedure, but he needs to rest. We just need to see how he does over the next twelve hours or so, in case he suffers another heart attack. The surgery went so well, though, it's unlikely he'll have another – at least, for now."

"You were in the surgery?"

He nodded. She gave a weak smile which she hoped was conveyed as one of gratitude, unwilling to falter over incoherent apologies, but the doctor didn't seem to notice.

"So young."

She frowned, "Sorry?" _I'm seventeen, thanks, buddy, _she thought idly to herself. _If I'd have wanted to be patronized, I'd have asked. _

To her confusion, however, the doctor stared instead at her father. "He's just seems so - young," he said thoughtfully, and there was a peculiar depth to his expression as he frowned down at the sleeping Dr Chase. She didn't really know what to make of it.

"Sorry, I – um, I... I don't understand."

Only now did he meet her gaze. "Don't you?"

She knew the smile that followed.

The doctor glanced quickly out of the window, grimacing. "I'm nearly late. Well, no-one will notice a couple of minutes either way, I suppose... Who knows, maybe I'll even have time to grab a burrito on the way over." He gave her a small wink which she did not return, a little startled. "Hope everything goes alright with your dad."

She watched, bemused, as he gave a swift nod to no-one in particular, and then turned to make for the door. And as he walked away, she heard him slowly recite a peculiar arrangement of words under his breath:

_Another job done_

_What would they do without me?_

_I deserve a raise._

And for the first time in hours, she smiled.

* * *

She wasn't smiling three hours later when the second heart attack struck, and she watched on in terror, screaming for help as she clung tightly to his hand.

It was a whisper, meant for no-one in particular.

_I can't do this._

_

* * *

**Chapter 8 - Coming soon...**_


	8. Chapter 8: A Day of Decision

_**C l i c k**_

* * *

**_Seven months after a war to end or save modern civilisation, Annabeth Chase was labouring under the impression that she was in a serious relationship. As it turns out, she's not. Not even close. Why? Because she hasn't had the Click._**

**_She doesn't know what it is. To be honest, she's never even heard of it. All she knows is that she wants it, she's got two weeks to get it - and she's going to get it, whatever the cost._**

~ _moderate language ~ minor sexual references ~ TLO spoilers ~_

* * *

**_Song choice - 'Broken' by Lifehouse_**

_Dedicated to you. For your endless patience, your encouragement, your inspiration. If you're reading this story right now, know I wrote it all thinking of you. Thank you. _

_

* * *

_

_**C h a p t e r E i g h t ~ A D a y O f D e c i s i o n **_

When Sally finally dropped her back at the Chase family home, she paced the stairs to her room with drowsy inelegance. Throwing off her shoes, her jacket, her scarf, she threw herself down on the bed.

She didn't remember falling asleep, but she remembered the dream.

_

* * *

Her stomach aches, throbbing emptily. Yesterday's tears are still pressed to her cheeks. She rocks backwards and forwards on the cold stone floor, hugging her knees closely to her chest for comfort._

If I close my eyes, I'm not in a nasty scary alley and there aren't any monsters anymore.

"_Hey, kiddo."_

_She jumps. The tall girl stands a little further away. She approaches slowly, her eyes narrowing as she surveys the shivering figure. With her dark clothes and hair, she blends right into the blackness of the alley; her skin, startlingly bright, seems to glow. _

_The girl takes a few steps closer, before sitting down beside her. Annabeth's breath quickens, feeling nervous; the overhead street light catches the glare of a grimacing skull on the older girl's necklace, and Annabeth can't help but shudder._

_The older girl rolls her eyes. "I'm not going to bite, y'know," she says grumpily, almost offended at the accusation. She proffers a bag of chips, looking at Annabeth expectantly. "Go on. You need to eat."_

_Annabeth watches her steadily, before delving quickly into the packet and raising a chip to her watering mouth. The girl gives a smirk._

"_Your head alright?" she asks. "That hellhound looked like it got a good swipe at you. No concussion? Memory loss?"_

_She shakes her head._

"_D'you remember our names?" the girl asks. Her stare is intense. She watches closely as Annabeth reaches for more food. _

_She tries to make out the words through a mouthful of chips. "Falia," she mumbles, swallowing quickly. "Thalia and Luke."_

_Thalia nods. Annabeth brushes her salty fingers on her jeans hastily._

"_Where's Luke gone?"_

_Thalia looks disgruntled. "He's scouting. Checking for monsters. Never know where they're going to pop up. The mall, the bus, the street. You're just walking along, minding your own damn business... And then – bam."_

_She pounds her fist on the ground angrily for emphasis. Annabeth watches her, entranced._

"_You don't scare easy." She sounds half-impressed, half irritated, by the child's lack of reaction. Annabeth shrugs. "You been on the run long?"_

_She glances down at her sneakers. "A few days," she says, casting aside the bag of chips. Her appetite seems suddenly to dissipate. "I don't like it."_

"_You prefer it at home?" _

_Annabeth scowls at the challenge. "No. There's no-one nice at home."_

"_Tell me about it."_

_She raises her head. A strange curiosity grips her, and she wonders where this strange girl, who dressed like death and talked like she'd faced it enough times, came from. "Who's not nice at your home?" _

"_To the point, aren't you?" Thalia snorts. Her expression suddenly turns, darkening and scrutinizing Annabeth in suspicion. "Why are you asking?"_

"_Just wondered."_

_A few more moments of hardened glares, before a begrudging response: "My mom."_

_She frowns, surprised at how easily the answer was given, how easily Thalia had confided in her. "But I thought moms were nice?"_

"_Not mine." Thalia's jaw is clenched tightly, and Annabeth feels the sudden blush of shame. "Sorry," she mumbles hastily, turning away. "It's just everyone else's moms seem nice."_

"_Try that one on Luke when you see him," grumbles Thalia, glancing down into the alley as if Luke is about to appear at the mention of his name. Annabeth sort of wishes he would – she feels distinctly uncomfortable with Thalia, her scary clothes and bright electric eyes._

"_What's your mom like?"_

"_I don't know."_

"_Who's at home, then?" _

_She feels a rising blush creep up her complexion. "My dad. And his family." She relishes how bitter the words sound on her tongue. _

_Thalia seems to sense the younger girl's sudden change in tone. Annabeth half-expects her to change the subject to a more comfortable one, but she shows no signs of doing so. _

"_They don't understand," she says quietly, "what it's like."_

_Thalia raises her eyebrows. "Uh-huh?"_

"_They..." She winds her hands inside her sweater, toying with the right words. "They always yell at me. I mean..." She swallows. "She's always yelling at me. And my dad – he doesn't even care! He just takes her stupid side and says it's my fault when the bad people come to the house... And he said – he said he wishes I was never ever born. Never ever," she added, and her lip trembled. _

_Thalia glances away, looking thoughtful. _

"_I wish he was dead," Annabeth whispers, and she's sure she means it._

_

* * *

_

She awoke to silence.

Exhaustion still clung to her like a petulant child. She blinked, feeling stiff and uncomfortable and lost in a tangle of cold bed-sheets. The sunlight flooded the room. In her haste to get to bed the night before, she'd forgotten to draw shut the curtains, and now the unwelcome glow made her squint to disfigure the sharp intrusion.

She dragged herself from the quilts. She'd never much liked her room at her father's house – white, pretty adornments and an elegant four-poster bed, with floral wallpaper and curtains. She'd only ever had any affection for the large bookcase and the wide bay window – her afternoons, when her brothers had been at after-school clubs and her parents at work, had often been spent with the window open and an old, heavy architecture tome from her own extensive collection.

Spying a reluctant glance in the mirror, she decided to shower. Glad to be free from the grasps of her party dress at long last, she showered quickly before sitting, wet and shivering, on the staircase in her towel and deep thought.

The water reminded her of him.

In a moment of weakness, she headed back to her room, dressing quickly, and chanced a tentative glance at her cell.

Nine messages, eleven voicemails. She groaned.

She dialled her answering machine anyway, waiting for the inevitable.

"Annabeth. It's me."

She caught her breath. She held the cell at arm's length, activating the speaker phone with a wary finger and pursed lips.

(She wasn't quite sure why she was torturing herself like this).

"I've heard about your dad. I'm..." The message seemed to falter slightly and she frowned, listening to the sound of a distant sigh. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault about _that_," she grumbled, deleting quickly. She pressed on to the next.

"Call me." His voice sounded strangled, and her chest seemed to contract. "I want – I need to know how you are."

She went through them all, one by one. _Call me _and _I'm worried about you_ and _pick up, please _and _I'm here for you_, which is her least favourite. _Sorry_ rang around a few times, but she didn't know what he was saying _that_ for. Sorry for her dad? Sorry for all that had happened between them? Sorry for what, exactly?

The final message was left some considerable time after the others. She frowned, waiting for his voice to fill the room once again, but the message began in silence. Her fingers ventured towards the button slowly ('press three to delete'), and when his voice sounded once more she froze.

"Look." A deep breath, sounding fuzzy and cluttered down the phone. "Look, I know I screwed up. But I'm... Annabeth, I'm shit-scared about you right now, because I know... Your, um, dad..."

She bit her lip.

"If you don't want me to come over there, let me know. Just text me, call me – anything. Just say the word and I'll – I'll stay right here. I'm going to try and get a plane tonight. So let me know before then. I..." His voice was pained. "Just don't give up, okay?"

She paused for a moment, bringing open the message screen. _New message. _

_But he left the message yesterday, _she thought, and feels like cursing her own need to sleep. _So he'll already have gotten the flight._

_Unless the storm came back._

She scowled, typing a hasty message.

_Where are you? – A_

She made her way through to the kitchen. There was a note pinned to the fridge in handwriting she didn't recognize, saying that her brothers would be staying with their grandparents for the next few days and hoping she was well. She sat on the counter, quietly infuriated with her hand in a box of cereal, eating the pieces one by one and listening to the sound they made as they crunched against her teeth. The dull sound of an early-morning Frisco radio station broke the stillness of the room.

_One new message received._

She grasped for her cell with one hand, reading the message quickly.

_I'm in NY. _

Apparently the time for apology had passed. Seconds later, however, another message arrived.

_I'm coming 2 Frisco. Text back if u don't want me 2. It's ur call. _

And the third, possibly as an afterthought –

_Hope ur ok._

She had nothing to say, so she threw some cereal in the general direction of the phone in an attempt to express her frustration.

No further messages followed. She knew he was waiting.

* * *

Sally came to pick her up around an hour later, her face grave, and found her sat in the kitchen, clutching a now empty box of cereal in one hand and a cell phone in the other.

"Annabeth? Morning - you ready to go?"

She nodded.

The radio was still muttering cheerily to itself.

"You'd better turn that, off, dear."

She made towards it, fumbling with the buttons to try and silence the man's dulcet tones. Her thumb caught one of the dials and the radio station changed; sighing, she tried to silence the familiar melody that now rang around the kitchen.

She blinked at the radio now grasped in her hands. She _knew _that song. She remembered... The Killers, wasn't it?

"Annabeth? We need to go, dear, your step-mother's waiting."

"Yeah – I just –" She shook herself from her momentary reverie, pulling the plug from the socket quickly – the song still rang in her ears, her thoughts three thousand miles away.

They left quickly, sliding into Sunita's new Range Rover a little warily.

She left her cell on the kitchen counter, his message unanswered.

* * *

_They're driving along the near-deserted freeway at a speed described by Percy as 'totally legal', and she's curled up in the passenger seat, an old threadbare blanket over her legs. In her hands is Percy's battered, years-old iPod; covered in old remnants of stickers with tell-tale scratches and dents along the sides, she can't help but laugh._

"_Seaweed Brain, your iPod looks like it survived the Trojan War."_

"_What's wrong with it?" he demands, and she rolls her eyes, holding it up for him to see. "It's just... lived in."_

_She snorts. "Yeah, that's one word for it."  
_

"_Actually, that's _two _words for it."_

_She shoots him her best Thalia death stare. "I loathe you."_

_He grins his best shit-eating grin and she throws a chip at him. "Hey!" he protests. "No distracting the driver!"_

"_Whatever." She rifles through a couple of playlists, looks at his albums, his artists. "What song should I play?"_

"_What are you, an iPod amateur? Shuffle, always on shuffle."_

_She pulls a face._

_He sighs. "First screen, down at the bottom."_

"_Gotcha." She presses the centre button with a little hesitation, fixing the speakers into the base of the iPod. Music suddenly fills the car and she pulls a face, trying to recognize the song. "Who is this?"_

_He's horrified. "It's The Killers. Please, tell me you know who The Killers are."  
_

_She smiles apologetically. His expression is one of revulsion. _

"_Right, get out of my car. Just – get out, out my life –" He grabs the comforter from her legs and throws it on the back seat as she laughs, shaking his head in mock disgust. "We're over, I'm sorry, this just isn't working for me – out of the car, come on, out -"_

_She's laughing too hard; he cracks and starts laughing, too (the car veers in a decidedly diagonal direction and she screeches, but he keeps laughing, like near-death experiences are the funniest thing in the world)._

_She snatches back the comforter, and the song plays on. _

_

* * *

_

**_Song choice - 'Breakeven' by The Script_**

"Ma'am – excuse me – ma'am, please can you – hello –"

The woman at the check-out desk raised her gaze. She had the air of a person close to defeat; hair that was once neatly coifed now frizzing at the sides, dark circles hanging at her eyes and a withered expression which was fitting for a woman manning a busy check-in desk at five-thirty in the morning.

"Hi, I was wondering if there was a flight –"

"No flights," she said resignedly.

"What, no flights at _all_?"

"Well," said the woman, and she looked like she wasn't going to stay awake long enough to finish the sentence, "if you had been here about... oh, twenty minutes or so ago, there would have been."

"But you said, last night –"

"Well, I'm _sorry_," said the woman, but her tone suggested she was far from it. "But with the weather as it is, there's no way we can let any flights through this morning. Storms are blowing in, left, right and centre, and you seem to have the most unfortunate timing, because every time you walk through these doors _another damn storm blows in_!" She took a deep breath and coughed once, apparently aware of her lapse in professional demeanour.

"So that's it? There's no way of getting to San Francisco today?"

"Apparently not. Unless, of course, you're planning on walking there, which –" she yawned, "I wouldn't recommend. And so, Mister –"

"Jackson. Percy Jackson; my mother, Sally Jackson, she flew from here last night, you might've - "

"- and so, Mr _Jackson_, I can no longer help you!"

_Okay, so walking there isn't an option – _

"Now, if you wouldn't mind, I'd appreciate if you –"

_- but maybe – maybe if I asked Dad, I could – _

"That's it!"

"Oh, by all means." The woman rolled her bloodshot eyes. "Stand at my desk, holding up the queue, talking to yourself. That's wonderful. Just wonderful – has anybody noticed that I am walking _double freaking shifts here?_"

He took one long look at the exhausted flight assistant, hoisted himself up over the counter and embraced her tightly, before racing for the door.

* * *

She was lost in thought on the way to the hospital.

"Your dad's surgery should have finished by now," said Sally. Her voice sounded breezy and reassuring, but she was gripping the steering wheel of Annabeth's step-mom's Range Rover a little too tightly for her liking. "They seem to think it's gone really well."

"They –"

She stopped herself from making the bitter _they said that last time_ quirk mid-sentence, reminding herself of who she was talking to. Whatever mood she was in, she wasn't going to take it out on Sally; she owed her enough already. She kept her gaze on the window, watching the buildings outside with little interest, wondering how on earth she would pay back the woman sat driving next to her. The thought made her feel even worse.

"Have you... eaten anything this morning?" Sally reached below her seat with one hand, before proffering a Starbucks bag in Annabeth's direction. "Sunita was worried that you might not get much to eat, so I picked some stuff up for you."

Dragging her gaze away from the window, she found not one, but two coffees in the bag, which also included some pastries. She could only imagine that Percy had told his mother about her minor morning coffee addiction, and her gratitude rose as a blush to her cheeks. She looked across at the older woman, who was concentrating on the road: "Thanks, Sally."

"No problem, dear, it's the least I could do. Goodness, I could get used to these roads– you forget what it's like to be able to drive without a thousand cab drivers screaming abuse at you when you live in New York. I remember –" And then she stopped, frowning. Pulling up to a red light, she looked at Annabeth with a look of dawning surprise. "You called me Sally," she said suddenly, as Annabeth took a lengthy sip from one of the coffees.

"Oh!" Annabeth blinked. It had been an involuntary slip of the tongue, a natural instinct – she made a mental note to tell Percy when she next saw him. He'd be delighted.

And then she remembered they weren't speaking, he was three thousand miles away and she'd stormed out of his apartment never to return and instantly felt a little bit sick, hoping to goodness she wasn't about to throw up coffee and dry cereal all over the car. Sally, on the other hand, looked joyous, smiling to herself as she turned attention back to the traffic. They rode for a few metres in silence.

"Y'know, I always wanted to have a daughter."

Annabeth choked on another gulp of coffee.

Sally seemed suddenly to realise what she'd said – looking mortified, her eyes widened. "Oh, goodness – sorry, verbal diarrhoea -" she said hastily, and her face reddened. Annabeth succumbed to a minor coughing fit, "- I was just..."

"No, it's... fine –"

"I shouldn't have..." Sally shook her head, looking most ashamed. "I didn't mean to – I was sort of thinking aloud -"

"Sally, really – it's..." She swallowed the coffee, searching for the right words. "I know... what you were trying to say."

Sally looked at her for reassurance. "Yeah?"

Annabeth nodded. "And I have... I have to thank you. For – coming with me, and helping Sunita and –" she lifted the Starbucks bag, gesturing wordlessly. "I just – You really are a life-saver. And..." She hesitated for a moment. "You have no idea how many demigods would kill to have a mortal parent like you. I –"

A lump rose to her throat. For a few hours, she'd managed to forget who Sally was. _She's Percy's mom. _Sure, it was unconventional, but she'd always enjoyed having Sally around – she could be really very funny, and evenings spent round at the Jacksons', teasing _him_ and talking Ancient Greece with Paul and having a laugh with Sally were some of the happiest she'd known. And now, especially, she felt closer to Sally than ever before – she was the mother she'd always wished she'd had, even if she didn't quite have the guts to say it out loud.

But she knew the truth. When she'd walked out of that apartment, she'd not only walked out of _his _life (it was easier, she decided, not to allow him a name), but Sally and Paul's, too. How on earth would she justify managing to stay in touch with _his _family knowing they were over? Would Sally even want to talk to her again once she knew the full details of what had gone on between her and her son? She imagined the scenario – a disgusted Sally refusing to ever acknowledge her existence for screwing her son over (_I didn't screw him __over, _she grumbled. _He screwed me over) _and shuddered.

Sally didn't seem to notice her sudden silence – or if she did, she did an Oscar-worthy job of pretending that she didn't. She gave Annabeth a warm smile as the car pulled to a halt outside the hospital, which went only half-noticed; Annabeth's gaze was fixed steadily on a brick on the wall directly opposite, morose.

"You coming, dear?"

Her nod was muted. She clambered from the car, looking up at the looming hospital above – which, in daylight, seemed even less friendly than it had the previous night. Fresh anxiety seemed to burn quietly in her chest as she followed Sally through the main double doors.

_Come on. Smile! Today's a new day!_

Her own mind was quick in its sour retort. _But the old days are the ones worth smiling about. _

Her momentary smile faded as quickly as it came.

* * *

He stood at the joining of the East and Hudson rivers. He hadn't been this part of Manhattan in months.

Seven months, to be precise.

He removed his jacket slowly, casting it aside with a little reluctance. _Won't be seeing that again. _Slowly, he walked towards the murky shoreline, hesitating only as he stood on the very edge of the water. A brisk breeze struck him – he shivered. _That's all I need. Freeze to death in the middle of the Pacific Ocean on a quest doomed to failure. _

He turned his head once to the right, picturing Annabeth sat on the seat of the Vespa in battle armour, watching on concernedly as he readied himself for the plunge.

He remembered her voice, scolding and anxious, from behind him. _Just be careful. I don't want anything to happen to you. I mean – because we need you for the battle. _He smiled at that.

He didn't even know if he could _do _this. It wasn't like he'd tried anything like it before. New York to Frisco was thousands of miles. And even if he did survive the journey – who knows what was swimming around in those seas? – what the Hades would he do when he got there? He didn't know his way around San Francisco. He didn't know where Annabeth _lived_, for crying out loud. And what if she didn't even want him there? Would he have to swim the entire journey back, alone?

_She didn't text back_, he reminded himself. _We're taking that as a yes. _

He glanced back towards the road once more, fixing the vision of Annabeth in his mind.

_Poseidon, help me._

He stepped into the water, wading further and further in – knees, waist, shoulders –

His head went under, and he felt the strength of the ocean surge through him.

* * *

Sally had been wrong. He wasn't out of surgery.

Sunita looked much worse for wear. The hospital was much busier this morning, and she would wince at loud noises or laughter from various waiting patients. Her reddish hair, once neatly tied back in a knot at the back of her head, was now frizzy at the edges, tumbling loose and dangling haphazardly at strange angles around her face. Her mascara was also slightly smudged, and she looked even paler than the night before.

"The surgery was delayed, so he should be out within the next two hours." Her step-mother was agitated, fiddling with her sleeves and worrying away at her necklace, her gaze constantly switching from various spots on the hospital wall. Annabeth sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. Waiting was the worst part.

"How are you feeling?" asked Sally tentatively. Sunita shook her head.

"I'm trying not to think about it," Sunita muttered. Sally nodded understandingly.

"I'm going to go to the bathroom." Annabeth stood abruptly; sitting still, alone with her thoughts, was the last thing she wanted. Sally smiled encouragingly and Sunita managed a nod, and she made for the exit, infuriated and anxious.

She stalked her way down the corridor, dodging out of the way of doctors and large groups of visitors as they came the other way. She took the elevator up to the next floor to the restroom. The door had a large _out of order _sign taped clumsily across the door and she cursed, earning herself a disapproving glance and an irate _tut _from two residents who happened to be passing by.

_Annabeth. _

She nearly jumped out of her skin.

_Annabeth. _

She glanced down the corridors confusedly, looking for the source of the voice; she was quite sure that in her current emotional state her mind had chosen hallucinations as the best form of stress-release. _What in the world...?_

_Annabeth, just open the freaking door._

Hesitantly, she pushed open the door.

Thalia Grace looked up at her, sat on the water basin.

"Thalia?" She closed the door quickly behind her, making sure no nosy doctors had seen her slip inside. She was sure that, if she had been more awake, her surprise would perhaps have been more evident. "What are you doing here?"

Thalia glanced up her, her expression grim. She looked tired, with a few battle wounds scattered around her arms and collarbone, tatters in her silvery ski parka. "I..."

She paused, apparently deciding answering the question was a redundant activity. "How are you?" she said quickly.

Annabeth, leaning up against the door, shrugged. Thalia scrutinized her face; she looked concerned, grave. "You didn't answer my question," she said, eyebrows raised.

"You didn't answer _mine_." She sighed. "Look, I'm just not in the best of moods right now. I've got a lot of stuff going on."

Thalia nodded mutely. "I know, with your dad. About that – Annabeth, I need -"

"- my dad, on top of everything else," she grumbled, stuffing her hands in her pockets moodily in her pockets.

"Everything else?"

Annabeth glared at her irritably. "Doesn't matter," she muttered, pursing her lips. She felt sulky and childish, but no shame – if she was entitled to me a little moody, now was the time to exercise that right. She looked up Thalia once more. "Why are you here?"

Thalia toyed with the rim of her silver bracelet. "I need to tell you something."

She waited, but was met with silence.

"Come on, then." Annabeth raised her eyebrows.

Thalia scowled darkly, her blue eyes tracing the shapes of the window panes. "Shouldn't even be here," she mumbled, "Artemis doesn't know. When she finds out –"

"_Thalia._ Will you please just tell me what's going on?"

Their eyes met.

"Zeus as my witness, I'm not telling you this because I want to cause trouble." She looked nervous. Thalia, Annabeth thought, rarely looked nervous. She kept glancing quickly skywards, as if waiting for some sort of godly strike to hit the bathroom stall. "And I'm not trying to hurt you by telling you, either. I just... I just thought you deserved to know. And you have to promise... Just stay calm, okay? No panic. Just calm."

"Okay, you're scaring me – can you _please _just tell –"

"Your mom."

"What about her?"

"She's done...something."

She looked at the Huntress expectantly. "What, exactly?"

Thalia's face was severe. "Okay," she said begrudgingly. "But you've got to promise to keep calm about this - getting mad will only make things worse.

"Thalia, what's this all about?"

Thunder rumbled somewhere above them, loud and fearsome, as Thalia's words filled the tiny restroom, and a familiar sensation of dawning horror seemed to clutch at her chest, tighter than ever before.

* * *

The water surrounded him, and the strength he felt coursing through his veins was other-worldly, divine.

_Poseidon, give me strength. _

He thought of her, and little else. _Just keep swimming._

He pictured the fish from Finding Nemo, bobbing up and down in front of him, making whale noises. His mouth quirked upwards in a smile.

* * *

_He's had a crappy day, so when he stumbles in the front door and finds Annabeth Chase stretched out in his living room, it's like Christmas, Easter and the Thanksgiving parade rolled into one._

_He's going to ask what she's doing there, but then he realizes he doesn't care, and so he just takes a seat beside her. "Hey there, house-crasher."  
_

_She grins, helping herself to a grape. "Want one?"_

"_Well, you won't let me throw them up and catch them in my mouth, so there's really no point." He glances at the TV screen, which is flickering merrily away across the other side of the room. "What are you watching?"  
_

"_Finding Nemo."_

_He raises an eyebrow. "Uh-huh."_

"_What? It's a good movie." She settles down beside him, ducking under his out-stretched arm. "Plus I started watching it with my brothers one time, but we missed the end, so I want to know what happens."_

"_He goes home. His dad stops being super-controlling. The little turtle starts going to his fish school. The end."_

_She throws a cushion at him. "Thanks a bunch, Seaweed Brain." _

_A miniature blue fish starts making some rather peculiar noises on-screen, and his rebuttal is forgotten. Annabeth smiles. Percy reaches for the remote._

"_Hey, what are you doing? Don't change the channel, I like the swimming song!"_

"_I'm not changing the channel, I'm turning it up!"_

_Sally comes home, twenty minutes later, to find her son and his girlfriend imitating singing fish in her living room, and knows better than to ask for an explanation. _

_

* * *

_

"For the gods' _sakes, _Annabeth – calm down! Can we at least rationalize –"

"I will _not _calm down!" she yelled, pushing open the hospital doors with some force, hoping to shatter the very glass in the panes as she stalked out into the car park, "and I will _not _rationalize this, this is too huge to be freaking _rationalized _–"

"I get it, it's big, but you've got to calm –"

"_Stop telling me to calm down_!" She rounded on Thalia. "Why didn't you _tell_ me about any of this? Are you and Athena in this together, because the timing is just perfect – hey, let's ruin Annabeth's life and here's an idea, let's see if we can do it in the space of _thirty six hours_!"

"I tried to find the right time," Thalia growled, her eyes narrowed in a murderous glare. "And don't you dare go off on me, I'm just the messenger – I shouldn't even be freaking _telling _you this, even immortality won't save me if Athena finds out, heaven forbid - but I _am _telling you because I'm your friend and I thought you deserved to know!"

"_Friends _don't keep the fact that their mother is the reason their father is lying in hospital _dying _secret from one another!" she said angrily. Her fists trembled. "You know what, Thal? Just go, I don't even want to talk to you right now –"

"The _fuck_, Annabeth! This isn't my fucking fault, and you know it."

Frustrated tears were falling, and she hated herself for it. She turned away to face the bushes, brushing them away furiously. "It doesn't even make _sense_."

"No, I'll tell you what doesn't make sense – you blaming _me _for all this." Her anger was obvious, but Annabeth could hear the hurt in her tone. "Athena caused your dad to have a heart-attack. What's not to get?"

"Don't say it like that."

"Why? It's the _truth_. Athena's never liked Percy. You know that. She hates his guts."

"Athena hates my boyfriend, so she gave my dad a heart attack?"

"I don't know! Maybe she thought it would help you – I don't know; I'm not Athena, for crying out loud!"

"But – but we'd already broken up by the time Dad had the heart-attack!" Breathing heavily, she ran a shaking hand through her hair. _Get a grip. Come on, pull yourself together. Think it through._

"You guys broke up?" Her shock sounded oddly sincere for Thalia. "When? Why?"

The pause was over-long, but she dismissed it quickly. She sniffed. "Doesn't matter." She wiped her hands quickly on her jeans, taking a deep, steady breath before turning sharply on her heel in the general direction of the hospital doors. "I'm going to go and see how my dad is. He's probably out of surgery by now –" A lie, but she felt no guilt, "- so I should probably –"

"Annabeth." She felt Thalia's hands, steady at her shoulders, grip her tightly. She dragged her gaze to meet the Huntress'. "Athena is behind this. She did it for a reason, and that reason has something to do with Percy. _That's all I know. _I don't know why, I don't know how. If you want answers, take this up with your mom."

She clenched her jaw, saying nothing.

"If you need me –"

She pushed past Thalia, cutting her short as she darted between the cars in the parking lot, feeling oddly cold. She heard the Daughter of Zeus curse, followed by an unearthly sound that seemed to rise up above her head into the very clouds above.

* * *

Three thousand miles away, Paul Blofis woke up with a banging headache, cushion-markings pressed to his unshaven cheek and an empty apartment. One hand grasped idly for the phone, a lazy thumb dialling for the answer machine and triggering speakerphone.

"Hey, Paul."

Percy, of course. Paul squinted into the soft depths of the cushion. Why could he hear splashing?

"There weren't any flights this morning, either, because of the weather –" More splashing. Someone shouting in Spanish, far in the distance. "- being so crappy, so I had to –" Splash, splash, splash – "and I'm just going through the Panama Canal –"

_The Panama –_

"- you should see the speeds I'm hitting, it's crazy, it's like five hundred miles an hour – should be in Frisco by noon –"

_Five hundred miles an hour._

"- just wanted to tell you I'm okay, and I'll let you know mom is once I'm there –"

_Am I still dreaming?_

"- and yeah, that's it, I guess. I'd better go, I'm in a cruise-liner's way – I'll call again later. I just wanted –" A loud, irate honk shook the receiver. " – thanks for last night. I appreciate it."

Another loud honk, this time even louder, and the message cut off.

The apartment lapsed into eery silence.

He slid down on the sofa, closing his eyes and sighing heavily.

_I'm going to need more Scotch._

* * *

**_Song choice - 'Out Of Reach' by Gabrielle_**

She headed for the waiting room, only to find no trace of Sunita or Sally. Groaning inwardly, she enquired as to her father's ward number with a sullen nurse and headed up in a busy elevator to the third floor. Pressed uncomfortably up against the cold metal wall, she tried to cut out the continuous chatter of the various elevator passengers. _Think about Dad, _she told herself. _Just concentrate on Dad for now. _She wasn't sure if her brain would withstand implosion should her thoughts stray elsewhere.

Renewed tension gripped her as she slipped out of the elevator and approached the ward.

The first two beds were empty. The third held a woman, who was sat up reading a novel. The fourth was a sleeping teenager.

She moved along to very end of the ward, by the window, and the sight of three familiar faces made her catch her breath. Sally raised her head at her entrance – she stood a little way from the bed by the window, as if worried she was intruding. Sunita was holding her father's hand, her head bowed.

Her stomach seemed suddenly to lurch. "Is he - ?"

Sally smiled. "It's okay," she said softly. "He's alright."

Relief consumed her; her heart seemed to swell and she closed her eyes, willing her emotions to fall silent. She moved to stand opposite Sunita. Only now could Annabeth see her eyes shining with tears, her mouth curved upwards in a warm smile as she silently greeted her step-daughter. Her father was sleeping quietly; he looked even worse than he had the night before, but his body – curved in a childlike position, one thumb in his mouth – brought a shaky laugh to her lips, a rush of affection for her father starting to ache at her finger tips. She bit her lip, wanting so desperately to keep laughing and never stop, though she had little idea why.

"They say the chances of another heart-attack are minute," said Sally delicately. "Apparently it's quite common for another to strike after the first operation, but he should be okay now."

"Thank the gods," she breathed.

_But the gods are the reason he's lying here. _

Bitter resentment tasted sour on her tongue.

"Annabeth? Are you alright? You – you look a little strange, dear."

She held her tongue, choosing instead to betray herself and nod. "I'm just..." She swallowed. "I'm just glad he's okay." She nodded, giving Sally a bracing smile that she hoped would pass for convincing elation. Sunita began to sort her father's sheets and a doctor approached. She helped answer some of his questions, trying to ignore Sally's searching gaze, and left soon after, shaking from head to toe.

* * *

"Thank the gods! I need to get to a hospital in this city, the hospital where you'd find Annabeth Chase –"

"Who is it? Give me the eye, Anger! I want to see him!"

"I'm looking at him, Wasp, and you have the tooth, you know perfectly well you can't have both!"

"I don't have _either_!"

"Stop whining, Tempest!"

"Can you guys stop fighting for a second and get me to that hospital? It's urgent!"

"It's always _urgent."_

"Come on, please, you can see I'm desperate –"

"I can't see _anything_! Anger, give me the eye or I swear to Zeus, I shall bite you!"

"Don't bite each other! Just drive!"

"I don't remember him being this bossy last time."

"I do."

"I don't remember him at all, Tempest! I can't even _see _him –"

"Woah, did you just _bite _me?"

"I wanted to remember who you were, seen as Anger has stolen the eye once again –"

"- I did not steal the eye!"

"Did too!"

"Did not!"

"For Poseidon's sake!" he bellowed. "Just drive to the damn hospital!"

* * *

"_Next time, we get a regular cab."_

_She rolls her eyes, hugging his jacket around her shoulders as they paced the sidewalk down from the restaurant to Percy's apartment block. The glare of the street-lamps flooded the quiet street. "They're not that bad, Seaweed Brain."_

"_You didn't end up with that damn tooth in your mouth!"_

_She cracks up, catching his (much warmer) hand in hers. "Okay. Normal cab next time. I swear." _

"_Pinky swear?"_

"_Tooth and eye swear."_

_"That's one impressive swear." He grins at her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, and she knows the tremble that runs down her spine has nothing to do with the weather. _

_

* * *

_

_**Song choice - '528491' by Hans Zimmer**_

The throne room was darkened and still.

The constellations above seemed to dance, silently and gracefully, above the flickering hearth, which lay untended; the figure of a glowing huntress seemed to chase among the stars, her proud expression one of joy and cheer. The hum of the Olympian nightlife could be heard from the streets below. The mighty columns, like guardians to the grand hall of the gods, stood tall and proud, rising up to the sky with incredible majesty – their elegance was breathtaking.

The line of mismatched thrones stood mighty at one end of the enormous space. One, a seat of platinum, stood alone in its occupancy. The man was impossibly tall, wearing a simple dark bed-robe; his mottled beard neatly trimmed, almost erudite. His eyes were closed, deep in thought.

The sound of approaching footsteps filled the room, but the man made no move to acknowledge them.

A woman's silhouette appeared in the doorway. The man seemed to frown.

She approached. She, too, was dressed demurely – a modest grey tunic, with her darkened hair tied back in a complex knot at the back of her head. Beautiful and proud, the woman came to rest at the foot of the thrones, bowing her head in gesture to the seated man.

"Father."

A still silence was his retort.

A flicker of impatience cast over the face of the Lady Athena. "Why have you summoned me?" she demanded, watching the elder god closely. "What need do you have of me? I have matters that require my attention."

The man sighed, shifting slightly on his throne – a forefinger was raised to his lips. "I have heard mutterings," he murmured, his deep voice quiet and restrained.

"And the nature of these mutterings?"

Another frown. The goddess pursed her lips, irritated.

"I visited the half-blood, as you asked."

"I know, my Lord."

"I helped her fly to her ill father, as you asked."

"I am aware of this, my Lord."

"And now I have something to ask of you, my daughter."

Athena raised her head; her proud face seemed to narrow somewhat. "I have nothing to hide."

The lines at the god's eyes seemed to deepen as he furrowed his brow. His forefinger tapped lightly at his bottom lip. "There are rumours spreading with haste across Olympus, which claim the man's heart attack was not of natural making."

"Indeed."

"It is believed the attack was of godly origin."

Her face betrayed nothing. "Is that so?"

"They say you cursed him with the heart attack, that the incident was part of your design to draw your own daughter from the son of Poseidon." The tapping continued, slow and achingly steady. "Do you deny it?"

"I bear no shame for my actions."

"That is neither denial nor acknowledgement."

Her grey eyes were stormy, her thoughts concealed.

"I have little care for the girl, or for her father. He is mortal. His eventual death is inevitable." The god paused. _Tap, tap, tap _on his bottom lip. The flickering hearth seemed to cower slightly away from him, bending towards the direction of the door. "My concerns lay elsewhere. Athena, you are fully aware of the divine laws restricting direct interference with our children. Should these rumours emerge to be true, your actions constitute a direct violation of the rules lain down in the earliest days of our age."

"The rules state that the gods may assist their demigod children in guiding them to ultimately make the best choices for their own future welfare. _Immortality for Dummies, _page thirty-two. Ninth provision, third addendum."

"The rules also state that judgement on violation of these laws is reserved only for the council of the elder Gods, or in their absence the head of the council, the lord of the sky, god of lightning, thunder, gatherer of clouds, conqueror of Kronos in the beginning of the fifth age!" The eyes of the god shot open – a piercing electric blue that seemed to light the room with their very glow. "The consequences of your actions –"

"Innocent until proven guilty, father."

"Bah!" Zeus scowled. "Drop the pretence. You are guilty of this interference. You risk the wrath of Poseidon –"

"I do not fear him!"

"- perhaps not, but do you fear your own father? It is my duty to uphold the immortal code!"

"Yes, because you have _always _abided by these laws."

"Do not test me!" Zeus rose to his feet, looking thunderous. Lightning seemed to flicker amongst the startling blue of his irises. "I have little patience on this matter. Wise you may be, but our error was fatal – it was not wise to break these rules as such. The laws must be upheld! On this I am adamant."

Athena's expression was one of quiet fury – her eyes were piercing, livid. "What is done is done. I cannot change what has already come to pass. She is in San Francisco as we speak, watching her father's recovery. She will begin to realize where she _should _be, where she should remain. She will not return to the Son of Poseidon. The lesson is learnt."

"You must go to her. Explain."

"I will do no such thing!"

"Athena." Zeus' voice shook the very steadfast columns of the throne room. "You will go to your daughter and admit your fault. You owe her as much. It is Poseidon's will that this be done, and though I am loathe to allow it..." He grimaced. "It is the honour of his child you have thrown into disrepute, and his will is your command. Your punishment is something I must think upon, but for now, your confession shall have to suffice. Go. I have nothing more to say to you."

The biting finality in his tone seemed to force the second bowing of the goddess' head. "As you wish," she said steadily, her gaze dropping momentarily to the floor. "My lord."

She turned briskly on her heel, walking from the darkened throne room with impeccable grace, the darkened gaze of the lord of the sky fixed to the striking figure of the Lady Athena as she vanished from Olympus.

* * *

**_Song choice - 'City' by Sara Bareilles_**

Dusk fell surprisingly early.

She leant on the railings a little way down from the hospital entrance, watching the general comings and goings of the San Franciscans' vehicles with little interest. The vibrant fiery hues of the sun's steady descent were mirrored in the many window panes of the various cars and vans scattered about the place, sending brilliant glares darting into the eyes of various passer-bys. She longed for a jacket or coat – she'd forgotten to pick one up in her haste to leave the house the morning before and was bitterly regretting it as the sun's warm rays seemed suddenly to vanish.

She could just about make out the ocean from where she stood. The Golden Gate Bridge could just be glimpsed; its lengthy frame stretching onwards across the sun-lit sea. Gardens filled with a thousand different colours of flowers sprawled out from the hospital entrance, with neat winding pathways labouring between them. Children and families ran amongst the plants.

It wasn't loud like New York. It wasn't as vibrant, as chaotic, as hectic as New York – there was a warm glow to the place, familiarity and cosiness woven into the very fabric of the city. Where Frisco was calm and graceful, New York was bustling and frenzied, like a small eccentric child with a glow stick after two many sugary drinks.

The thought of returning to the city burned unpleasantly in the pit of her stomach. Flying back to a place where such little remained for her seemed – imprudent. The work on Olympus was only in the planning stages at it was – it would, by her calculations, be several years until the building even began, and so her visits to Olympus thus far had been fairly redundant at best. Though it would be nice to remain at one school for longer than a year or so at a time, transferring was second nature to her now – if she were to return to her school in Frisco, it wouldn't be totally unfamiliar... It wasn't like she was completely in love with her New York school anyway. Mrs Clisham herself was reason enough to flee the state...

_You want to live in Frisco? _She even surprised herself. _Move back here_?

She should be closer to her family. That much was for sure. The incident with her father – she couldn't bear it if something was to happen to them again, and for her to be three thousand miles away and unable to reach them in their hour of need. Would Sunita allow her to move into the family home once again? The two of them certainly seemed to get along much better these days... Matthew and Bobby were older now, they weren't small toddlers who used her architecture tomes as colouring books... Perhaps...perhaps a move to Frisco might be –

"Annabeth?"

Sally's voice called out, and she turned to the door just as the woman came speeding through it.

"Your dad's awake, he's just woken – do you want to come and speak to him, dear?"

"Yes!" She nodded eagerly. "Is he –"

"He's absolutely fine – well, come see for yourself!" Sally beamed at her, before heading quickly back inside. She made to follow her.

"Annabeth."

And her heart seemed to catch in her throat.

* * *

"_I like your name," he says, and as usual it catches her off guard._

"_Really? I've always thought it was a stupid name." She pulled a face. "It's just Anna and Beth shoved together. Like, my parents could be bothered to choose between the two."_

"_Best of both," he says with a smile. "Annabeth. It's fun to say. Annabeth."_

_She blushes, but pretends it's just the heat._

_

* * *

_

A familiar flush crept up her cheek. _If you turn around now, you will never be able to look yourself in the mirror ever again._

She turned, and her eyes met his.

He could have just been out for a pleasant evening stroll – t-shirt, jeans, sneakers, hair in its usual haphazard state. He looked tired, but there seemed a strange relief about his person that made her oddly uneasy. _Percy, _her heart whispered, and it betrayed her, choosing to ache painfully as it hammered against her chest. Sensibly, he didn't try to approach – he remained a safe distance away, but she could trace every line on his face with ease nonetheless.

Her hands gripped tightly to the railings.

"What are –" She wasn't sure when she forget to construct sentences, but she guessed it was about five, maybe six seconds ago, when Percy Jackson stepped into the hospital parking lot. "What are you doing here?"

He had the decency to look slightly ashamed. "You didn't text back," he said, somewhat sheepishly. "So I thought..."

Whatever he thought, he didn't care to elaborate. There was a blunt silence, and she didn't give any apology for it.

"How - ?" She remembered the storm in New York, the terrible thunder clouds swirling over the lights of the city as she'd flown west. "The flights –"

"I swam."

She blinked. "You –"

"Yeah."

"You swam. To San Francisco."

"Mmm."

"You swam to San Francisco."

"Well... yeah."

Her eyes drifted to small corner of the sea in the distance, and back to Percy, and she knew, then, that it was all too much for her, _far _too much for her, and she wanted suddenly to cry.

"Look." Did she sound that quiet out loud? She hoped not. "I can't do this right now. My dad –" Her mouth hung open, but there was no sound, and suddenly she was choking up, everything she'd felt over the last forty-eight hours suddenly threatening to flow forth.

He took step forward and she froze, suddenly nervous. She shook her head, twice, three times.

"I need to tell you something," he said. Her hand unclenched itself from the railing; she was still shaking her head, imploring him to stop, to please please stop. "I came because – I need to let you know that I want to work this out – I want to talk to you about – about everything –"

"No – Percy, please –"

"If you'd just let me –"

"I can't do this," she murmured, "No, Percy, I can't –"

"Just listen –"

"_Please._" Her throat closed up, and she knew her words were barely an audible whisper. "I can't do this."

She backed up towards the door slowly and turned quickly, breaking out into a run as she slid through the revolving doors.

* * *

It _was _the right ward. She knew it; the sign _said _it was. But when she reached it, she knew... it _wasn't_.

All the beds were empty. The windows were set at different points on the walls, which were a lilac colour instead of white; the machinery was scattered at different corners of the room – it was different, it was all different. She took a few stumbled steps inside. The very floor felt different under foot. "Sally? Sunita?"

No answer. She turned back towards the doors, wanting to check the sign for a second time, but they seemed suddenly to have closed themselves.

She hadn't closed them, had she?

"Annabeth."

The voice came from somewhere over the other side of the room – where her father's bed would have been, had the room been in its original state. She advanced cautiously (her hand subconsciously wandering to her knife, which lay dormant in her jacket sleeve) as she made in the direction of the woman's voice.

"Mom?"

The Lady Athena sat by her father's sleeping form, his hand clutched in hers.

She was reminded, instantly, of Sunita's very same pose only hours ago – but her sentiment had seemed sincere, yearning emotion and relief; Athena's seemed almost indifferent. There was no rush of affection in her expression, no longing or fondness. Looking upon her mother brought on a cold resentment, and not one she recognized.

"Annabeth." She felt so little when she heard the goddess say her name aloud.

"I know why you're here," she said. "I know what you did."

An irritated frown crept across her mother's face. "Tell me, child. What did I do?"

"What did you do to the room?" she asked, cutting short her mother's cold demand. She felt uneasy. "Where are Sally and Sunita?"

Athena seemed annoyed at the mention of her step-mother. "This is layer of imagination. We sit in the same room as your father, your step-mother, your... friend. This is, if you will, a mirage, placed over the top of an existing scene in time – when I should vacate, the layer will dissolve, and the room shall return to the way it was, and no time will have passed."

"So this conversation isn't real."

Her mother's gaze met her own. "It is real enough for you and me. That is all that matters. Take a seat."

She sat stiffly opposite. Her father snored once.

"You did this to him."

Athena nodded.

"Why?" She clenched her jaw tightly, her stare relentless. "Because of Percy?"

"Partly."

She looked away angrily. Athena traced patterns on her father's forefinger. "You belong here, Annabeth. In San Francisco. This is where your family is. You have much to do. New York is too... distracting for you. I fear for what you will become with its influence. You will be great, child. But New York is not the place for you to achieve such greatness."

"Because of Percy. That's what this all is about, isn't it? You don't like him."

"You are a child, and you see only the present. You don't think of the consequences of your choices, your decisions. That is no way to live for a daughter of Athena." She leant forwards, her gaze pressing, insistent. "You are wise. Use that wisdom."

She felt fiery and rebellious, and though she knew whatever she said, she would bitterly regret – but the temptation was too great. "You lecture _me_ on making the right choices, yet _you _chose to try and kill a man you once loved," she said angrily.

"I do not regret it." Athena sniffed. "And he never would have died. I was careful. I was meticulous in the creation of my plan, and it succeeded. It _is _succeeding."

Annabeth looked at her in disgust. "You planned all this? Everything?"

"More than you know." Her indifference angered Annabeth more than anything – she sat, near-nonchalant, documenting her orchestration of her daughter's own personal nightmare. "It began weeks ago. This is its climax."

"But you planned for dad's heart attack to break me and Percy up, and we broke up before the heart-attack happened!" she exclaimed, staring at her mother in disbelief. "You didn't plan that!"

"I think you mean Percy and _I_," said Athena curtly. "The stress of a heart-attack does not excuse poor grammar. And you disappoint me, child. Think! Why were you and the son of Poseidon separated in the first place?"

"I..." She frowned – echoes of words shouted in anger rang in her ears, eyes aching with past tears. "We fought – about where we were going, if we were serious – the Click, that was –" She looked at her mother, and she hated that she saw herself in those features - because the dawning truth filled with her a sudden, aching revulsion.

"Thalia," she whispered. "You told Thalia about the Click, didn't you?"

"Do not blame the daughter of Zeus," Athena said idly, looking almost amused at the idea. "She was not aware. I doubt she would have complied if she _was_."

"You made her think it was something she'd heard from the daughters of Aphrodite! It was – _you! Y_ou knew what it would do to me, what I'd start thinking about..." She stood abruptly, her hands rubbing at her jeans quickly – everything, everything was making sense now, and yet she had never been so unhappy to find the answer to a problem in her life, "How else would Thalia know about the Click, she hangs about with a bunch of feminist virgins every day! And... you _knew_, you knew it would drive us apart and then –"

"- I used the heart-attack to distance you from him. Zeus and Apollo assisted me in that, though they were not to know to what extent they were to help me." Athena looked tiredly out at the waning sunset. She looked greying, old – withered, as if too little emotion had drained colour from her flesh. "Don't you see, Annabeth? I helped you think about what is to come. You had no future with him. He was not ready to commit himself to you, and you admitted it yourself; you want a future, a future you can trust in! I have helped you see that. You will see, in time, that leaving New York was the best decision you have ever made. You are free to live for the future!"

"My life isn't a game you can play!" she cried, gesturing wildly at the woman sat opposite, who looked at her with little sincerity. "My choices are mine to make! You had no right –"

"I had every right! I am your mother!"

"And yet you know me so little you think I'd be happy letting _you _live my life for me!" She wanted to throw something, so badly; reckless anger was boiling up inside of her, and Athena's apathy only infuriated her further. "You're just _selfish_!"

"Selfish?" Athena looked dubious. "All I have done is for you! All I have planned, I was thinking of you!"

Annabeth gaped at her. "You wanted me to live my life as _you _want!" she exclaimed furiously. "You think I'm just some puppet you can make into whatever you want, don't you?"

"You are my daughter –"

"Then I hope I never end up like you. You're a monster."

Athena's expression suddenly darkened, and there was a low rumble that seemed to shake the very foundations of the room in which they stood. "Be careful, child," she warned, and she let go of Dr Chase's hand, her eyes now fixed on Annabeth's. "Remember with whom you are speaking."

"Get out. Just leave. You're – you –" She could not find the words, and so she stood, glaring with contempt at the mother she no longer recognized.

Athena stood abruptly, her face stony. "Remember what I have said. You have a choice left to make. He is here, I know it - I tried to prevent his arrival, but he appears to have used... an unconventional method of travel, one I did not quite foresee." Her gaze flickered once to the looming skyline of San Francisco. "But it is up to you as to whether you will return with him to New York. It is the time to decide where your loyalties lie, Annabeth. Choose wisely."

Her face contorted in contempt, and Annabeth's eyes seemed suddenly to close of their own accord – when she opened them, Athena was gone, and she was stood in the doorway of the ward; its features now recognizable – windows restored, the white walls surrounding her. Sally and Sunita stood by her father's bed, the scene oddly still.

Her breathing was ragged and heavy, her head spinning, and she craved a sudden release.

"Annabeth!"

Why him? Why now? Why _her?_

"Annabeth – are you okay? Why –"

Whether it was the heat of the moment - feeling too many things for too many people at once - or the sensation of falling through fantasy back into reality, she didn't know- the last thing she remembered was her vision darkening, her feet giving way, and her eyes slowly closing as she tumbled downwards.

* * *

**_Song choice - 'Between The Lines' by Sara Bareilles_**

She awoke painfully aware of another person's presence in her bedroom.

The quilts curved to her body – warmer, more soothing, than they had previously been. Her eyelashes fluttered gently against the fabric of her pillow, and there was a moment of bliss in between sleep and consciousness where she felt nothing but the comfort of her bed.

The other person in her room moved slightly, and the bliss seemed to come to a sudden halt.

She shifted her head slightly. _If it's a murderer,_ _at least they've done me the courtesy of allowing me to be awake when they kill me._

Frowning at the figure, she tried to make out familiar features through sleep-blurred vision. Dark hair, maybe? She couldn't really tell. With some reluctance, she pushed herself up from the blankets and cushions, stretching her arms out in front of her to shake life into her drowsy form. Light flooded the floor once more – golden, buttery light.

"Hey."

Half-awake, her emotions were muted. She looked at him. "What time is it?"

"Midday."

She blinked, surprised at the lateness of the hour. He watched intently as she re-arranged her pillows around her, putting them back in their original position and picking those up which had fallen to the floorboards.

"What are you doing here, again?" She yawned. His brow creased.

"I'm not really sure," he admitted, and he glanced down at his sneakers. He was leant forwards on his elbows; he looked ill at ease, uncomfortable in his surroundings. It occurred to her that this was, admittedly, the first time he had ever seen the inside of her bedroom. It seemed odd, under the circumstances.

"I'm flying back to New York today."

She glanced up. "Yeah?"

He nodded, wiping his hands on his jeans slowly. "Me and my mom," he said, his eyes running the length of the baseboards. "We're booked on the flight at six-thirty."

She couldn't resist. "No swimming this time, then?"

The corner of his mouth quirked upwards in a reluctant smile. "Not this time. I mean, it was fun, but... My mom can't swim back, and Paul..."

"Are you going to be alright flying?"

"My dad's had a word with Zeus. He was okay about it, actually – something about Athena, I didn't get what they were on about." He squinted as the sunlight caught his eye – for a moment, she glimpsed the boy on the porch of the Big House clutching the lifeless body of a satyr and a minotaur horn, and a warm flood of affection took over her. "But apparently I'm good to go."

She nodded. Her finger's traced the blanket's hem absently.

The room fell silent once more.

"I've been an idiot."

She looked over at him, her face blank.

"You were standing there." The words seemed like a struggle; his face was furrowed in concentration. "And asking me to make a promise to you, that we were serious – that _I _was serious about _us_, y'know?"

"I was wrong to put you on the spot like that," she said, and she meant it, regret eating away at her insides. "I shouldn't have –"

"No! That's what I wanted to say you to you –" He pointed out of the window in the vague direction of the ocean. "That's what I wanted to tell you, what I swam from here to New York to tell you –" He moved the chair towards the bed quickly, looking at her in earnest. "I don't want this to end more than anything in the world. I woke up this morning and I didn't – we weren't – y'know?" He winced, as if hearing his own words aloud was a painful experience. "And I never wanted to wake up feeling like that again. Ever."

She bit her lip. "That's not the same as wanting a serious relationship, you know. It's not –"

"I know," he said hastily, and he blushed. "I know, I'm saying it wrong..."

She hid her smile.

"The Click thing _was _stupid," he said, shamefacedly. "I mean – I wasn't right in how I said it. But it was really stupid."

"What it represented wasn't stupid." She wanted him to look at her, but his gaze was always elsewhere – tracing the roof, the corner of her wardrobe, her curtains. "That stuff is important. Future-stuff, it's important to think about that."

He nodded numbly. "I know. I just... I wanted to tell you that I'm more serious about you and me than I've ever been about anything." He spoke quickly and feverishly, fixing his eyes on a spot on the carpet as he spoke. "I wasn't prepared to be adult about something when I needed to be. But that's not going to happen again. I know it. I promise, I won't – I can't let that –"

She raised her hands gently to the sides of his face. He looked startled. She raised his head to look at her, fixing his eyes on her own.

"I've missed you," he whispered. She nodded, a lump rising to her throat. "More than anything. Everything I did... I kept remembering stupid things that we've done together or stuff we've said; it keeps coming back to me, and all I can think about –"

_Me too_, she thought, but she didn't say it aloud.

"Listen to me." His face was inches from hers – his expression was solemn, steady. "Listen. There's something you've got to understand about me. Something important." She took a deep breath; her heart seemed to twinge painfully.

"I need something in my life that's permanent." He was warm at her touch, and it seemed to give her strength, though she wasn't sure how, or why. "Something I know is going to be there until the end, until the day I die. That's just me – I'm crazy. You know that." She smiled bracingly, but he remained still. "And – and god knows... I've missed you. These last couple of days, I really needed you –"

"I know, I know – I'm sorry, I couldn't get here in time –"

"It doesn't matter. That's..." Another deep breath. "That's not what matters right now. Percy, I haven't had the chance to think about us over the last few hours. I've had too much to think about, too much on my mind, with my dad and everything..." She glanced away, distracted momentarily. _I hope Dad's okay. _"And if I promise anything to you now... I'll just regret it, I know I will. Because... I still don't know what I want. Part of me wants to stay close to my family – here, in Frisco, where everything's easy, and everything's calm, and everything's okay. And I don't want to force you into promising something permanent to me – because that's what I need, more than anything; but it's not fair of me to... demand that from you, y'know? _You _don't know what you want, you're too young to know what you want, whether it's me or... something else. We both still have decisions to make. And I'm not quite ready... to make that yet."

He was hurt – she knew. She could hear it in his words, see it reflected in his eyes. "Come back to New York with me."

"Percy... I –"

"We can work everything out. I know we can."

She pressed her forehead to his, closing her eyes, allowing herself a moment of silent consideration. "I don't know," she said shakily. "I don't know." Tears welled up behind her eyelids, and needed release, now, more than ever.

His arms, ever understanding, pulled her to him, and she buried himself in his shoulder, crying the tears she had been fighting for far, far too long.

* * *

They ate breakfast quietly on opposite sides of the kitchen, and in the car on the way to the hospital she kept her forehead pressed to the window.

She greeted Bobby and Matthew in the waiting room; she was so glad to see them she hugged them tighter than ever before, so much so that Bobby went blue. She embraced Sunita as Sally embraced Percy, and the five of them spent a couple of hours playing with some of the cards and toys the twins had brought with them, reading crappy waiting room magazines and talking amongst themselves; she kept herself away from Percy, ashamed of her crying into him the morning before, and frightened of the very thought of making the decision she knew would have to be made before six-thirty that evening.

"Can I go see Dad?" Sunita seemed surprised at the question, but nodded encouragingly. She left the waiting room alone, heading up to the ward, consumed by a strange stillness that had been noticeably absent of late.

The nurse on the ward smiled warmly at her as she slipped through the doors. "You're in luck," she said quietly, "he's just woken up."

She thanked the nurse and made towards her father's bed; the time for trepidation had passed, and when she saw him – eyes open, sat up in bed – she felt nothing but elation.

"Dad!"

The many wires and IV drips running from Dr Chase to the machines made it impossible for her to hug him, but he raised a warm hand slowly to a cheek, smiling at her as she sat down beside him.

"They said you were here," he said softly. He looked fuller in the face, healthier than he had been in days. "I wondered... if maybe you'd forgotten about me."

She gave a watery chuckle, brushing her hair quickly behind her ear as she grasped her father's hand. "Are you alright? Are you feeling better?" She looked at the now-empty food tray propped up before him. "D'you need anything?"

"A good book would be nice," he admitted, glancing with distaste in the direction of the hospital cabinet. "They don't have much appreciation for historical literature, it seems. There's only so much I can get out of the New Testament, you know."

She reached into her bag, bringing out a heavy brown book depicting warfare on the cover. "I brought this from the house," she said, proffering it to him, watching as his face lit up at the site of it. "Thought it might pass the time until they discharge you."

"A Bevin Alexander! Wonderful book, wonderful book..." Her father thumbed through the pages quickly, shaking his head as his eyes darted from page to page. "Excellent historian, shows the new kids how it's done." He smiled at her tenderly. "I have missed you, my dear."

"I missed you," she said softly, and squeezed his fingers tightly. "I've been – so worried, you have no idea..."

"I'm alright, I'm alright," he said, waving a dismissive hand. She rolled her eyes, helping him slide the book onto his bedside cabinet as he sat up a little straighter in the bed. "Nothing a good night's sleep won't mend. They say I'll be out of here by this afternoon, you know."

"Really? That's great!"

"Quite! I was hoping we might get to catch up, I haven't had any chance to speak to you – being a bit busy with the old ticker, you see." He pointed at his heart disapprovingly and she chuckled. "How long are you staying for?"

She hesitated, her smile waning. Her father watched her carefully.

"You haven't decided, have you?"

She shook her head morosely, glancing down at the hospital bed-sheets. Her father smoothed her hair slightly with a free hand, and she wished, so desperately, that this choice wasn't hers to bear. "You'll choose right," he murmured comfortingly. She looked up, wanting reassurance, and found it in his eyes as they looked steadily into hers. "You always do. You'll make the right decision, when the time comes. Just you wait and see."

"How can you be sure?" she whispered.

"Because I think, deep down, you know what you want," he said, and she knew he was right, however much she could try to deny it. "You know where your future is headed. You know what you want out of the life you'll lead."

She frowned.

"Percy's here, is he?"

She nodded. "He... um, swam."

"Impressive."

"He wants me to go back to New York with him tonight," she confessed, biting her lip. "And I don't..."

Her father lay his hand gently across her fore-arm, his face creased in a smile. "You can't live life doing what you _should _do," he murmured. She scowled – Athena's face seemed to hover in front her. "That's no way to live. Sometimes you have to make your decisions for you. You only get one life, dear. Might as well make the most of it, in the way _you _want."

They spent the afternoon talking about things that didn't matter in the slightest, and suddenly the choice didn't seem like such a big deal, after all.

* * *

She found him, stood by the car, waiting for Sally to drive to the airport.

"Are you coming?" he asked.

She glanced back at the hospital, to the window level with her father's ward, and then back to the boy who swam four thousand miles to hold her when she cried.

"No," she said. He seemed to expect it, almost.

He nodded, sliding into the passenger seat and making to close the door. She held out her hand to stop him.

"Not yet," she whispered, and a silent agreement passed between them.

* * *

She flew back to the city three days later, having seen her father return home and spent a few days with her family in the San Franciscan sun.

When she landed in New York, the rain was torrential. _Welcome home, _it seemed to say, and she loved the city so much more for it.

The cab drive there was horrific ("Tempest, if you don't give me the eye, I shall never speak to you again as long as I live!"), but she knew she couldn't have it any other way. She rang his doorbell once, twice, three times, before he came to answer.

He was in an old t-shirt and sweats, and he had never looked more beautiful to her.

* * *

"I want to work this out." She sounded so much more confident aloud than she felt, but when his face broke into a smile, all whispered doubts seemed quietened, all worries in the back of her mind pushed aside.

He brought her to him, and she was overwhelmed by the sudden sense of belonging that overcame her as she lost herself inside him.

* * *

_**Epilogue enclosed.**_


	9. Chapter 9: Epilogue

_**C l i c k**_

* * *

**_Song choice - 'Glitter in the Air' - P!nk_**

_**

* * *

**__****_

E p i l o g u e

* * *

They took a trip to a rocky mountainside overlooking gentle waves at a welcomed sunset, leaning against heavy boulders with their eyes on the horizon.

She glanced over at him. His eyes shone with the blazing colours of sunset and, for a moment, she felt like an intruder to a man at peace. He caught her looking. A smile played on her lips for only him to see, but his look was one of the utmost sincerity as he leaned in slightly towards her.

"I think we should spend the rest of our lives together." he murmured, and something about his expression told her he meant it. "If that's okay."

She blinked, a shaky hopeful hesitance pressing to her reddened cheeks. "Is that supposed to be some kind of proposal, Seaweed Brain? Because engaged at eighteen kind of comes with a whole host of judgemental undertones, usually to do with buns and ovens."

"Not a proposal." He smiled a little at that.

There was a pause, filled by the waves crashing down on a shore below.

"How about a promise, instead?"

She didn't have anything to say to that, and so she nodded.

"Good," he said, and he looked relieved, as if the weight of the sky had been lifted from his shoulders (she knew the feeling). "Because I've been trying to say that all day."

"I know," she smiled. He looked outraged.

"That's just _mean_."

She shrugged. "I've told you before, Seaweed Brain, that I am _never_ –"

"- never make things easy for me – I know, I know," he grumbled, scuffing his sneaker along the dirt. "But y'know I meant it, though, right?"

She leant her head on his arm and closed her eyes.

They stayed, silently content, for a few minutes longer, before Percy shook his arm gently against her. "I've got cramp," he complained.

She rolled her eyes as he made towards the car, gesturing in the direction of the waiting vehicle. "Coming?"

She nodded, waving a careless hand to the landscape. "Yeah, I'll just be a sec."

Stowing a hand deep in her pocket to reach for her cell, she turned back towards the waves.

The message was written and sent quickly. Replacing it back in its original place and moving towards the car, she opened the car door and felt a familiar drowsiness wash meekly over her as she collapsed into the passenger seat. He chuckled at her sleepy form, throwing her a blanket from the glove compartment.

She clutched her cell tightly in her palm with the coarse fabric of her jacket pocket brushing softly against her skin, feeling safe and secure. Opening one eye drowsily, she checked her sent messages. A warm flush of success overcame her as she spied the message, with Thalia's name under _recipient. _

She closed her eyes.

It was her final thought as sleep finally found her – those five letters glowing brightly on her phone screen - but there was no shame in it now.

"Don't you go drooling in your sleep all over my car, Wise Girl."

* * *

_Click. _


End file.
